


Saving Hope

by LT_Aldo_Raine



Category: The Originals (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Before Hope becomes an angsty teenager, Dysfunctional Family, Elijah has a LOT of feelings, F/M, Family Drama, Family Fluff, Fix-It of Sorts, Guilt, Kidnapping, Lots of Hope Mikaelson being a cute kid, Rescue Missions, Season 4 divergence, Slow Burn, Vampires, Werewolves, Witches, it needs its own tag, mostly guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2019-07-10 17:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 22,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15954005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LT_Aldo_Raine/pseuds/LT_Aldo_Raine
Summary: Because there is nothing Elijah won't do to protect his beloved niece.OR: “We'll kill two birds with one stone—rescue my daughter, and slay the wretched witches who dared take her from us.” Klaus glanced at his big brother. “Its like Christmas, wouldn't you say, Elijah?”The corner of Elijah's mouth twitched in amusement. “Yes, quite.”





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> I recently, shamelessly binged all five seasons of the Originals, and I was a little bit heartbroken about Elijah being mercilessly dragged through the ringer in Season 5. Consider this a response to that, in which Elijah just needs some uncomplicated love. 
> 
> This first installment features lots of Hope, Elijah, Klaus, Hayley, and Freya. Part II will focus more on Elijah and Hope. Liberties taken with legal procedures involving missing kids/foster care. Whatever. 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> p.s. apologies for the cliche title, it just worked so damn well

Elijah Mikaelson stood by the drink cart swirling a glass of B+ in his hand. The blood was fresh, of course, courtesy of the housekeeper, and Elijah was doing his best to savor the delicious scent of his dinner before he sampled a taste. He had not eaten all day, and the Original vampire was positively ravenous.

The eldest living Mikaelson brother raised the glass to his lips—and it was at that precise moment that his younger brother Klaus stormed into the courtyard with an entrance that was nothing short of melodramatic.

“They have her! Those damned witches have Hope!” Klaus bellowed, his body thrumming with a rage barely only hinted at in his words. With a cry, Klaus kicked the closest piece of furniture—an antique arm chair—and sent the offending object skidding across the courtyard floor until it collided with the staircase and promptly shattered to pieces. His bloodlust unsatiated, Klaus turned his fury on the dining table next, lifting it with his enhanced strength and flipping it into the nearest wall. This, too, splintered all to hell, the sound of its rupture paling in comparison to Klaus's unending wails of torment.

“Niklaus,” Elijah murmured. Though the stirrings of his own rage and fright bubbled beneath the surface at the mere thought of those wretched witches laying a finger on his beloved niece, now was clearly not the time for hysterics. They needed to focus. Hope needed them to focus. “Niklaus, please.”

“Do not ' _please_ ' me, brother!” Klaus shouted, spinning on Elijah with unbridled madness in his dark eyes. “They have my daughter! We must find her. We must—”

"Yes, yes, of course, we will find her,” assured Elijah, immediately and certainly, and in order to find her... “Freya!”

Their sister appeared almost at once. “What? What is it?”

“The witches have Hope,” Elijah declared in his understated manner.

Freya's light brow instantly furrowed with anger, and if Elijah spotted correctly, fear. “What?” She rounded on Klaus. “How did this happen?”

“What does it _matter_ how it happened? What matters is that they _have her_!” Klaus's words were sharpened with a hatred so pure and deep that his siblings felt it in their bones. Or perhaps, they were simply feeling the echoes of their own hatred, mirrored in their brother's eyes. Klaus turned his misery on a tall plant near the courtyard gates. He uprooted the stalk, threw the greenery to the floor, and kicked the pot mercilessly, the sound of shattering clay bouncing harshly off the stone. His enraged gaze found Freya's. “Why aren't you _doing anything_?”

“You mean like kicking plants?” she quipped. “Stop stomping around like a child. We need to find Hope—”

In a second, Klaus was at his sister's throat, hissing words like venom. “Don't you think I know that?”

“She is right, brother,” Elijah spoke. “You must try to compose yourself. We need to remain calm if we are to bring Hope home.”

Klaus glanced at Elijah, his expression nothing less than petulant. “And how do you suppose I calm myself, brother dear? Mhmm? Should I count to ten, or perhaps, do some light yoga? Will this calm me while my child—my dearest daughter Hope—is out there _alone_ with a bunch of witches hell bent on bringing about certain death to our entire family?”

Freya rolled her eyes at Klaus's theatrics. “How about we skip the yoga and you give me some of your blood, instead? I'll need it to scry for Hope. I'll need Hayley's blood, too.”

“Yes, where is Hayley?” asked Elijah. “Does she know what has happened?”

“She was at Mary's. She's on her way back from the swamp now.”

“Actually—” Hayley appeared at the courtyard gates of the Mikaelson compound. “I'm already here. Klaus, what happened?”

“ _Hayley._ ” As Klaus spoke the name of the mother of his child, there was not an ounce of rage in his voice—there was only unyielding anguish. The female hybrid was by his side in a second, her hands cradling his face tenderly, affectionately, familiarly. Her worry was obvious, but in this, as in all things, Hayley Marshall would be strong for her family. “We will find her, Klaus. We will.”

Elijah froze as his younger brother's eyes fell shut, his forehead tipping forward to rest against the crown of Hayley's head. She held him for a moment, silent and still, while they attempted to contain their shared grief as parents.

Turning away from the intimate moment, Elijah forced himself not to feel the sting of it in his heart. Though his and Hayley's relationship had been put to bed for some time now, Elijah nonetheless found himself surprised at the swiftness with which his brother and his former lover had found peace in one another's arms. Perhaps their union was inevitable, given all that they had shared, including their family's treasured Hope.

Freya watched Elijah as he watched them, and the Mikaelson witch frowned at her little brother with sympathy. Catching her gaze, Elijah merely forced a polite sort of half-smile. “How may I be of assistance, sister?”

“There's nothing for you to do, I'm afraid. Once I have their blood, I'll start the spell. We'll hopefully know where they've taken Hope within the hour.”

"Very well.” He nodded and straightened the jacket of his pinstriped, Bespoke suit. “If I am not needed here, I shall pay Marcel a visit and enlist the vampires of New Orleans to our cause. The more eyes in this city that are looking for Hope, the better.”

And then, Elijah Mikaelson was gone.

 

* * *

Just after midnight, Lorelei Graham was woken by her dog, Fitzgerald, who stood at the front door of her home, pawing and barking incessantly.

“Fitz,” Lorelei yawned. “What the hell? Come back to bed.”

The young woman hovered in her living room, blinking sleep from her eyes and yawning, as she attempted to coax her beloved yellow labrador back to the bedroom. Unfortunately, her efforts were to no avail—the stubborn dog refused to relent—, and she finally sighed, “Okay, fine, you win.”

Unlocking the door, Lorelei unleashed her dog onto the night. As she suspected, Fitzgerald shot out and disappeared into the darkness of the woods surrounding her home. Lorelei left the door open and dropped onto the front stairs of the cabin. Light spilled out from her home behind her, casting her shadow on the leaves and grass below her feet. Yawning, Lorelei sat with her elbows on her knees and waited.

Fitzgerald would chase down whatever noise had lured him into the dark—probably a fox or a raccoon—and would return home soon enough.

Five minutes passed. Then, another five minutes. Then, another ten. When Fitzgerald had not returned after half an hour, a seed of worry planted itself in the pit of Lorelei's stomach. The young woman stood on her stoop and called out to her beloved pet, whistling between her words. “Fitzgerald! Fitz, let's go!”

Only silence greeted her in return.

“Shit,” the young woman hissed, running a hand through her blond tangles. She had an early meeting in the morning with Mr. Chris at the feed store; she did not have time for Fitzgerald's games tonight. With a huff, Lorelei retrieved a flashlight and a pair of boots, which she promptly shoved on her feet, before she took of into the forest in search of her dog.

The young woman followed the familiar paths to Fitzgerald's favorite spots. The canine wasn't down by the lake, nor was he hiding behind the horse stables, and he wasn't out messing with the chickens at the hen house.

As Lorelei wove through the tall pine trees that littered the land, she continued to call out to her dog, whistling all the while. Just as she prepared to admit defeat, knowing that her faithful dog would eventually return on his own time, a noise in the distance caught her attention. Lorelei trekked towards the racket, and the closer she drew, the better she recognized the familiar sound of Fitzgerald's deep bark. “Shit, Fitz,” she muttered as she stomped through the leaves and bushes to find her four-legged companion.

Finally, ahead, beneath the branches of a short hemlock tree, Lorelei's flashlight caught flashes of Fitzgerald's dull yellow fur. “There you are! Fitzgerald, c'mon, we've gotta go home. Fitz, let's go!”

But the dog declined to yield. He remained steadfast, barking endlessly, his back to Lorelei and his nose to the roots of the hemlock tree.

“Fitzgerald...? What is it?”

The seed of worry in Lorelei's stomach sprouted, suddenly, as the shape beneath the tree took form.

“Oh, _God_.”

There, lying in the leaves and pine straw atop the roots of a young hemlock tree in the middle of the forest on the Graham family's farm nearly forty miles from the nearest town, was a little girl with bright auburn hair and pale skin. 

* * *

“ _And you just...found her_?”

Lorelei withheld the urge to roll her eyes. “Yes, Hank, for the third time, I 'just found her'. Fitzgerald must've heard the kid or something, I dunno, and before you ask, _again,_ no, I have no clue how she got all the way out here.”

The sheriff asked, “ _And she don't appear hurt or nothin'_?”

The young woman shuffled the phone on her shoulder and turned back to gaze at the child now fast asleep in her bed. “No, she doesn't. She was cold when I found her, but I've got her bundled up now, and I've put the heat on... Hank, don't you think you should come out here?”

“ _Look, its already damn near two o'clock in the mornin'. If I got up now and put m'uniform on, by the time I made it all the way out to your place, it'd be after three. Now, if the child don't appear to be harmed and you didn't spot nobody else on your land there, I don't see why all this can't wait a few more hours. I'll think better in the mornin' after I've had some sleep, anyhow._ ”

Anger flushed Lorelei's system. “And just what the hell am I supposed to do with her while you _take a nap_?”

“ _She's sleepin', ain't she? While I reckon you oughta get some sleep, too. I'll see you 'round your place in the morning. Goodnight, Lorelei.”_

“Wait, Hank—” But it was useless. The sheriff had already hung up.

Lorelei tossed her iPhone onto the kitchen counter and stood—awkward, hesitant, and unsure of how to proceed. She glanced at Fitzgerald who was curled up at the foot of her bed, just inches from the little girl's feet. What had Fitzgerald brought her?

Wandering closer to the bed, Lorelei reached out to brush a few stray hairs from the kid's face. She pressed the back of her hand to the girl's forehead, feeling for fever or illness. The child seemed fine, if a little warm. Gazing down at the freckles that dotted the little girl's pale cheeks, Lorelei wondered, “How did you get here...?” 

* * *

“This is _pointless_!” Klaus roared. “Its been six hours, and we've gotten nowhere!”

Blood covered every inch of the Saint James bar. The metallic liquid dripped down the walls, pooled on the floor, and was splattered across the bar top. It stained the hands of the Mikaelson siblings as they stood among a pile of witch corpses.

Elijah whipped out his handkerchief to wipe away the blood on his face and hands. “Calm down, Niklaus. Call Freya. Surely by now, she has located your daughter.”

Klaus had his sister on the phone in an instant. “Well? Where is she? Have you found her?”

On the other end, the brothers heard Freya's sigh. “ _The cloaking magic is_ —”

“I don't give a damn how strong their magic is! You are a Mikaelson witch, dear sister. _Act_ like it, and find my daughter!” Caught in his fury, Klaus crushed the phone in his palm. The tiny shards of plastic cascaded to the ground and settled among the pools of blood. Klaus spun on his brother. “What news from Marcel?”

Elijah glanced at his phone. Nothing _._ “They continue to search the city.”

"Marcel is useless!” Klaus kicked the corpse of a male witch. “Freya is useless!” He kicked another. “Why is everyone insistent on proving to be useless today?”

“Alienating our sister will get you nowhere, brother,” Elijah warned, his steady voice belying his unease. The eldest Mikaelson brother shared Klaus's fears: time was passing far too quickly while they were left chasing pointless leads. Meanwhile, there was no limit to the horrors that his niece might be enduring, _alone_ and frightened, and no doubt, crying out for her family to save her.

Elijah towered over the bodies of the fallen witches and sensed a white hot rage simmering beneath his polished exterior. He only wished that these witches could have lived to see the wrath that he would unleash on what remained of their coven. For when he found them...

_Ah._

“Niklaus, we need to get our sister on the phone. _Now._ ”

Klaus's dark eyes widened with hope and a dubious curiosity. “Elijah, what is it?”

“I fear we've been going about this all wrong.” _Of course_ , Elijah thought. How could they have all been so blind? “We know that the witches are using powerful magic to hide Hope from our sight, but I wonder, are they using that same magic to hide _themselves_?”

And at that, a slow, devious smile spread across Klaus's face. “Brother, dear, you are a genius.”

Elijah returned his little brother's grin. “Yes, let's hope so.” He glanced around at the massacre before them. He sped over to the bloodied bar top and fetched a pair of tumblers. Passing one to Klaus, Elijah instructed, “Collect as much as you can. We need to get their blood to Freya immediately.”

* * *

When Lorelei woke, she was confused. _Why am I on the couch?_ She hardly ever fell asleep in her living room, given how notoriously uncomfortable her late grandfather's couch was. Sure enough, as she sat up, Lorelei's back cracked and she felt the bone-deep ache of a restless sleep.

Then, she spotted the little girl standing behind the coffee table and she remembered.

“Oh, hello,” Lorelei spoke, the words startled from her. The kid blinked at her, arms hugging her chest, lips parted but silent. She was obviously frightened. “I'm Lorelei, and I promise you're safe.”

“Where am I?”

“This is my cabin.” Lorelei gestured the house around them. “I live on a farm near a forest reserve in central Mississippi.”

“Mississippi?” the girl asked, the word sounding foreign on her tongue.

Lorelei watched her little brow furrow in confusion, and the young woman flinched at the abrupt sensation of dread in her stomach. If this kid wasn't from Mississippi, where was she from? And how had she gotten there? A thousand scenarios swirled through Lorelei's mind, each more horrific than the last—human trafficking, kidnapping, and so on. “Are you...are you from Mississippi, sweetheart?”

Again, the little girl could only blink. “I don't...I don't know.”

Lorelei nodded. She thought about the social workers at the school where she'd taught. She tried to remember her trauma and life crisis training, but the young blond could only think that she should project a sense of calm. “That's okay. That's fine. Why don't we start somewhere simple, huh? What's your name? Can you tell me your name?”

“I don't...” The child took a shuttering breath, and on instinct, Lorelei reached for her across the coffee table. “Hey, hey, you're okay. You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you, I promise.”

The girl shook her head as tears welled in her blue eyes. “I don't know.”

“That's okay—”

“ _No_ ,” the girl cried. “You don't understand. I don't know my name. I don't...I don't know anything. I can't remember anything.”

Fats tears spilled over from blue eyes, tiny lips trembled. Hugging herself and crying, the little girl bolted from Lorelei and dashed into her bedroom. The child disappeared beneath the modest mountain of blankets on Lorelei's bed and began to sob.

Combating her desire to comfort the kid, Lorelei decided to give the little girl a moment, not wanting to overwhelm her. The young woman stood from the couch, stretching and popping her back, before she made her way to the kitchen. Lorelei went straight for the coffee pot. While her morning cup brewed, she fed Fitzgerald breakfast and had a thought.

“Hey, kiddo,” she called softly, her feet carrying her towards the bedroom. She stood in the doorway, granting the girl space. “I don't know about you, but I'm pretty hungry. What do you say I fix us some breakfast, and maybe we can figure this out together over some grits and eggs, huh?”

At the mention of food, the little girl poked her head out from beneath the pile of quilts, intrigued. Still, the child hesitated. Lorelei grinned and motioned the kitchen. “C'mon, you can help me crack the eggs.”

* * *

Sheriff Hank Bryant called just after seven that morning—not long after the girls had finished eating breakfast—to announce that he would be at the Graham farm right around eight o'clock, or at least certainly no later than nine. His casual tone and flippancy regarding Lorelei's mysterious guest sent her temper over the edge, and the young woman swiftly corrected the sheriff's attitude, informing him of her young ward's amnesia and insisting that the lawman get to her cabin as soon as humanly possible.

“ _I'm on my way, Ms. Graham,”_ was the sheriff's only reply.

Lorelei thought it was best to keep the kid occupied until the sheriff arrived.

“Would you like to color? I have some markers—” Lorelei had managed to scrounge together a few Sharpies, though she wasn't sure what the child would be able to create using only black and red for colors.

“I think—” The girl's brow furrowed. “I think I would like...to paint?”

"Paint? Uh, sure. Let's see what we can find.” They looked together, and the industrious pair succeeded in finding a quart of mossy green paint and a few fat brushes left over from the last time Lorelei's grandfather had painted the stables. Though it looked oily, Lorelei reckoned it wasn't quite too old just yet, and so the little girl stirred it up with a stick from the yard and seemed satisfied.

Then, Lorelei suggested they try to make some paint out of what little food coloring she had in the pantry. “I think I have some red and blue left over from the Fourth of July cookies. How's that sound? I'm sure there's an easy recipe we can find online.”

The little girl agreed with a small smile before a distant look glazed her face. She turned toward the window, gazing out into the world beyond the cabin. “I think... Could we maybe try to make some paint out of berries or leaves? I think someone told me that once. That you could do that.”

Lorelei beamed down at the kid. “That sounds like a marvelous idea. Let's go see what we can find.”

Whoever she was, the girl was smart and tenacious. She took to the woods to forage for berries and leaves, and she came back to the cabin with a glorious heap of spoils from her forest conquest. Not only had she found a widely colored variety of leaves—the fall foliage provided a range of oranges, reds, yellows, and browns—, but the kid had also snuffed out an elderberry bush. She dropped the elderberries, gathered in the folds of her dress, on the porch of the cabin.

Lorelei stooped to pluck one off the porch. “These...” she told the kid. “—are going to make a gorgeous purple.”

The freckled-faced girl only beamed.

* * *

Klaus was, in a word, elated.

Elijah's plan had worked. The blood of the witches that the Mikaelson brothers had slaughtered had been enough for Freya to scry for the others in their coven. Their sister had tracked the witches down to the gulfcoast of Mississippi.

“If we hurry—” Freya declared. “—we can be there in about three hours.”

“Please,” Elijah murmured. “I'll get us there in _one_.”

Now, the entire Mikaelson quartet was piled into one of the family SUVs while Elijah drove them straight into the heart of a witch coven determined to end the Mikaelson line.

“Try not to look so pleased, Klaus,” Hayley chided from the backseat. “These people still have our daughter.”

"Yes, Hayley, and that is precisely _why_ I am so delighted.” Klaus drummed his fingers on his knee. “We'll kill two birds with one stone—rescue our daughter, and slay the wretched witches who dared take her from us.” He glanced at his big brother. “Its like Christmas, wouldn't you say, Elijah?”

The corner of Elijah's mouth twitched in amusement. “Yes, quite.”

Beside her in the backseat, Freya sent Hayley what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

* * *

“Well, you've sure got a mess on your hands here, Lorelei.”

From the front porch swing, the sheriff and the farm owner watched through the open front door as a little redhead girl sat at Lorelei's kitchen table and painted with berries and leaves and flour, dyed with food coloring.

“What are we going to do?”

“I'll need to get on the phone,” Sheriff Bryant replied. “Call this one in to the folks up in Hattiesburg. We're just not equip to handle this sort of thing over in Wiggins, you understand.”

Wiggins, Mississippi, was the closest town to her family's land near the De Soto forest reserve. Though the town was proud enough to lay claim to a Walmart and a slew of fast food chains, the local law enforcement—the sheriff included—were used to dealing with petty theft and speeding tickets. Missing children were not in their wheelhouse.

“Okay, call it in.”

The sheriff sighed. He sent Lorelei a pointed look. “Now, listen, I think we oughta wait.”

Lorelei felt as though, surely, her eyes must have popped out of her head. “Are you kidding me, Hank?” This man might have called her grandfather a friend, but Lorelei was losing her patience with his backwoods idea of police work. “You ha—”

Sheriff Bryant stood from the swing. He lifted his hands in a sign of peace and surrender. “Hear me out, will ya? Its Sunday, ain't it? That means that the folks up in Hattiesburg that deal with Child Services and all that won't be in until tomorrow. Now, the second I call the station up there, they're gonna want us to bring the girl. Only, since the folks from CPS are unavailable today, they'll stick the kid in a holding cell overnight until someone from the CPS office can get her and put her with a foster family until they figure out just where the hell she came from.”

Lorelei's stomach dropped and her gaze sought the form of the cute kid sitting inside, painting and humming to herself.

Sheriff Bryant seemed to feel the woman's worry. He cast an apologetic look her way and continued, softly, “I don't know about you, but I reckon that kid's scared enough as it is. Last thing she needs is to be thrown in some cold cell to wait this thing out by herself for the day, don't you agree?”

Inside, the telephone rang. The interruption was a welcome respite from the difficult conversation, and Lorelei excused herself to answer the call.

“ _Ya know, I don't offer to come in on my days off for just anybody.”_

“Mr. Chris! Oh, no, Chris, I'm so sorry. I completely forgot. I just—” Lorelei's eyes landed on the mysterious child at her kitchen table. “I got caught up in something. I'm so sorry. Look, can you wait around for an hour? I promise I'll be there this time.”

“ _You must think you're somethin' special. Got folks comin' in on their days off, got 'em waitin' around all day just for you,_ ” the man teased. “ _Alright, darlin'. I'll wait, but you best hurry up now, or its my wife you're gonna have to answer to.”_

“Yes, sir. I'll be there right away.” Lorelei quickly said her goodbyes, hung up the phone, and rejoined the sheriff on the porch. “That was Chris Carlton down at the feed store. I forgot that I was supposed to meet him this morning to pick up that new shipment of sweet grass for Daisy.”

“Horse still not eatin'?”

Lorelei worried her lip. “No, she isn't.” The young woman stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans and sighed. “Alright, sheriff, you win. Call Hattiesburg tomorrow. I'll keep the girl with me until then, but you better call me first thing in the morning once you've figured out what we're doing next.”

Sheriff Bryant snorted. “Are you sure you aren't the sheriff around here? Seems like you're mighty comfortable givin' out orders and such.”

Lorelei rolled her eyes, but felt her heart squeeze. “She's just a little girl, Hank, and somewhere out there, her family has to be terrified and missing her... I just want to help her get home.”

“Oh, Lorelei.” The sheriff frowned, his voice soft and somewhat broken as he lowered a comforting hand to the young woman's shoulder. “Sweetheart, wanderin' around out here like you found her, she might not have a home no more...”

* * *

That Sunday, the girls spent the day in Wiggins.

After their first stop to meet Mr. Chris at the feed store, Lorelei took the kid to the local Walmart. They wandered through the food isles first. Lorelei was all smiles as she watched the little girl light up with joy every time Lorelei allowed her to add something to their buggy, clearly not expecting that Lorelei would continue to approve her requests. In the end, the kid would walk away with chocolate pop-tarts, caramel popcorn, and a box of brownie mix.

“You've got some sweet tooth, kiddo.” Lorelei also grabbed some veggies and fruit, not wanting to completely spoil the child's stomach. But given the hell that the kid was going through, Lorelei found she couldn't deny her, especially not something as simple as a couple of sweets.

Next, the girls found themselves in the junior's clothing section. Lorelei wasn't sure how long the kid would be with her—or with a foster family—, but she had appeared out of nowhere and with nothing, and there were certain things every person needed. Clothes was first on the list.

“See anything you like?”

The little girl's eyes flickered here and there, but she didn't move. “Why are we buying clothes?”

“Because at some point, we're going to need to wash your dress.”

Blue eyes gazed up at her expectantly. “I'm going to find my family, aren't I? I'm not going to stay here forever, right?”

Lorelei knelt in front of the kid, their buggy forgotten in the isle. She captured the kid's hands in her own. “We are going to do everything we can to find your family, I promise. But I don't know how long that's going to take, okay? And if we're going to keep playing in the woods in the meantime, we're going to need more clothes or your dress will be ruined.”

Little hands grasped at the fabric of a much-loved dress—the only remnant of a life forgotten. A terribly serious expression dawned the child's face. “I _can't_ ruin my dress.”

Lorelei stood and motioned the dozens of racks of kids' shirts and shorts and sweaters that surrounded them. “This kingdom is yours, milady. Take what you wish.”

The little redhead nodded, solemnly, and moved forward to conquer the cloth kingdom. 

* * *

 

The destruction the Mikaelsons bore down on the witches of the Mississippi gulf was apocalyptic.

They had torn that coven apart with a vengeance the likes of which would have made the devil himself quiver. While Freya used her magic to break down the witch's barriers, Hayley shifted into her wolf form to hunt for her daughter's scent. The brothers waited, one on either side of their sister, until the magical force field was destroyed.

Then, they feasted.

They drank and bathed in the blood of the witches whom had torn from them the most cherished thing their family had ever possessed. Together, Klaus and Elijah stained the soils of lower Mississippi with the blood of a dozen witches. But it was not enough.

Hayley darted out between the oak trees that dotted the edge of the beach in her wolf form. In the light of the moon, she shifted back into her human body and shrieked, hysterically, “She's not here! Klaus, Hope's not here!”

Fangs buried in the olive-colored torso of an older, male witch, Klaus snatched his head back and dropped the corpse unceremoniously to the sand. “What? _Where—is—she_?”

Across the sand pebbled with stones and seashells, Elijah wrenched the hearts out of a pair of twin witches, their screams still ringing in his ears. “Hope is not here? Freya, can you find her?”

Their sister closed her eyes, palms toward the sky, and reached out with her magic, searching desperately for her niece. Her magic yielded nothing. With tears in her eyes, Freya faced her family. “I can't feel her.”

Klaus released another bellow of rage and proceeded to dash through those witches who lay wounded across the damp beach. He tore and ripped at their flesh, stealing their limbs from their bodies and severing their heads at the neck.

“Klaus, stop! Klaus—!” Hayley pleaded, falling to her knees. “They're our only chance of finding Hope!”

* * *

_I could absolutely come to love this child_ , Lorelei thought not for the first time that day.

Showing the same care she had when making paints from leaves and berries, the kid was patient and thoughtful as she sorted through the clothes at the chain store. The little girl was so unlike any other child Lorelei had met. There was an air of deliberateness and something that felt sort of ancient about the young girl. In less than a day, the little redhead had proved herself to be brave and sensible and kind.

She was also cute as a button.

Lorelei knew the child's family must be distraught without her, and the thought of their pain hurt her own heart.

With a buggy full of jeans and dresses and even a flower necklace, the girls picked up a few other items needed for the kid's stay, including a toothbrush, hair brush, and another pair of shoes, as well as a few canvases, some paint, and paint brushes.

“Thank you.” The girl had said it softly, almost shyly, as she helped Lorelei load their shopping bags onto the bed of the pick-up truck beside the sacks of horse feed.

“You are more than welcome. But, you know, if you really wanted to thank me, you could do me a favor.”

The kid blinked, curious. “A favor?”

“Mhmm. When we get back to the farm, do you think you could help me feed the horses?”

A wide grin split the little girl's face, her freckles wrinkling in the midday sunshine. “Deal!”

"Speaking of feeding, are you hungry yet? Why don't we stop by Sonic and get some corn dogs?”

“Corn dogs?”

“What? Have you never had a corn dog?” asked Lorelei with a slight laugh of disbelief. What kid this side of the Mississippi had never had a corn dog? The girl made a face, like she was trying to remember, and Lorelei felt like an idiot. She hurried to change the redhead's train of thought. “Well, today is your lucky day, because we are going to Sonic, and we're going to eat as many corn dogs as we can without puking. We'll even order tater tots and milkshakes, how's that?”

“I don't know what tater tots are, but I like milkshakes?” The kid gave an impish grin, and Lorelei couldn't help but laugh. “That'll do, then. Let's go.”

* * *

Back at the farm that evening, after they'd visited with the horses and chickens, Lorelei sat on the couch, a book open on her lap and a thin quilt around her shoulders. The kid was back in her chair at the table, paint and brushes and canvases spread around her like the feathers of peacock. Music played softly from the radio on the kitchen counter as dusk settled over the earth outside. It was a nice, homely moment.

“Hey, kiddo?”

She looked up. “Yes?”

“Well, I was thinking... I need something to call you.”

“To call me?”

“Yeah, like a nickname, unless you'd just prefer I keep calling you 'kiddo' and 'hey, you'.”

“You haven't called me 'hey you',” she pointed out smartly, causing a grin to flutter across Lorelei's face. “I might have to start if we don't figure out something else.”

The kid set down her paintbrush and swiveled in her chair to face Lorelei. This was serious—she had the girl's full attention now. “What were you thinking?”

“Mhmm...I don't know. We could call you Red because of your hair, but...” Lorelei hummed thoughtfully. She studied the child for a moment before she decided. “You don't seem like a Red to me.”

A freckled nose wrinkled. The kid shook her head. “No, I don't think so, either.”

Lorelei wondered if this was customary. Never before had she given a thought to how amnesia patients determined a new name in the absence of their memory, or how long it took them to feel familiar with their own name—now foreign to them. But she felt certain that the child needed _something_ she could identify with in the wake of a childhood of memories that were now lost to her. Yet, giving the kid a new name appeared wrong somehow. How could she tell this kid she was an Amanda or an Olivia, when she was actually a Felicity or a Julia? To adopt a new name, Lorelei thought, would be to sever the final tie between the kid and her lost family. So, for now, they would avoid conventional names all together.

There were other things to be called, after all.

“Well, do you have a favorite color?”

The little girl turned her gaze on the various shades of orange and purple and blue that she had been painting with. She considered them for a moment, studying the differing hues, before she finally answered. “No. There's too many colors to choose from. I like them all.”

“Fair enough.” Lorelei nodded, a stray blond curl falling into her eyes. “What about...?” She brushed the curl away and spotted Fitzgerald sprawled across the rug in front of the fireplace. “What about a favorite animal?”

“I like horses...” They'd had a wonderful time that afternoon feeding and brushing and playing with Daisy and Delilah, Lorelei's mares. “But I don't think I'm very much like a horse.”

“No, you're way too small. Definitely,” Lorelei agreed, and the kid rolled her eyes at the young woman's lame joke. “What about...foxes? Or bears? Or...pigs? My grandmother adored pigs. She used to raise them on this land, a whole lot of them. _My_ favorite animal is a lion. Lion cubs are pretty much the cutest thing on the planet.”

The child smiled at the thought—lion cubs _were_ pretty cute—, but still, she was not pleased. “I like all those animals, I guess, but they aren't my favorite.” Her face scrunched in concentration. She knew she had a favorite. She _knew_ it. She just couldn't remember.

Outside, a sudden gust of wind picked up, and the force of it sent a stick colliding into the side of the house. The sudden racket woke the sleeping dog, and Fitzgerald jumped with a start and a single bark. The little redhead's eyes widened at the sound. “That's it! Wolves! I love wolves!”

Lorelei beamed, happy to see the kid so enthusiastic, and more importantly, starting to remember things about her past. “There ya go! We'll call you Miss Wolf.”

The kid shook her head. “No,” she corrected. “I'm the littlest wolf.”

And she seemed so sure of it, that Lorelei could only nod. “Alright, Little Wolf, it is.”

* * *

On the sacred ground that belonged to the coven of the witches of the Mississippi gulf, Freya cast yet another scrying spell, determined to find the remaining members of the coven so that they could lead the Mikaelsons to Hope. The ground was soaked with the blood of the coven. Their sacrifices were more than enough to power Freya's spell, and in an instant, the Mikaelson witch was connected with every remaining witch of the Mississippi coven.

“Four remain,” she informed her siblings. She pointed at the map laid out before her. “One is in another state, but three of the witches are nearby in Gulfport.”

“Right,” growled Klaus, already storming off toward the car. “Let's move.”

“You go,” Freya declared. “I need to stay here.”

Hayley frowned at the blond. “What? Why?”

“Because—” Freya's facade of a steel-hardened Viking witch weakened, the quiver of her lips revealing the scared aunt beneath the stony exterior. “—I can't feel Hope. Whatever cloaking spell they had on her, it should have lifted the _second_ that Klaus and Elijah tore their throats out. But it didn't. I don't understand this magic. I need...I need to stay here and figure this out, or we may never find her.”

“Fine,” Klaus frowned. “Stay. Call us if you make any brilliant discoveries about our dead foes here.”

“I don't like it. I don't like leaving Freya here alone.” Hayley looked to Elijah, the Mikaelson voice of reason, for support. The eldest Mikaelson male stood in the surf with his back to his family, his suited form outlined in the moonlight. “Elijah?”

Three pairs of eyes sought the shape of the family patriarch, but he remained silent.

“Elijah!” Klaus demanded when he'd had enough waiting.

Slowly, the Original vampire emerged from his thoughts. “Niklaus, you will stay with Freya.”

In a look of utter incredulity, Klaus's eyebrows disappeared beneath the curls atop his forehead. “Begging your pardon, brother?”

Elijah sighed, as if already annoyed with Klaus's pointless questions-and-answers game. “You've heard our sister. These witches have done some sort of foul magic here, and she must undo it in order to save our Hope. You will stay with her and protect her while Hayley and I interrogate those who seek refuge in Gulfport.”

“And why should I not be the one to interrogate these witches? After all, it is _my_ _child_ they have taken.”

“Your rage in this matter is a hindrance,” Elijah stated, simply. “I fear you will execute them before we have what we need.”

In a flash, Klaus was at Elijah's side, reaching for his older brother's throat. But, as always, Elijah saw the attack coming. He easily dodged Klaus's advance and tripped his brother, sending the hybrid tumbling into the sand. “Thank you, Niklaus, for illustrating my point. Even now, your anger makes you careless.”

Eyes flashing yellow, Klaus glared up at his brother from the sand. “You dare to imply that I would do _anything_ to put my daughter's life in danger?”

“No, Klaus,” Hayley stepped forward, her tone one of appeasement. “Elijah knows that you would do anything to protect Hope. We all know that. Which is why we trust you to do the right thing and stay with your sister. Let me and Elijah handle the Gulfport witches.”

“I—”

“Enough, Niklaus,” Elijah swiftly cut off his younger brother, lest their argument continue until dawn. “We're wasting precious time. Freya, do whatever you can. Our brother will ensure your safety while you work. Hayley, if you please...?” He sped to her side, placing a hand on her lower back and guiding her toward the car.

They left without further ado, Klaus's protests dying out over the dull roar of the ocean.

* * *

The next morning, Lorelei drove with Little Wolf and Sheriff Bryant to Hattiesburg to meet with law enforcement officials there.

Per state regulations, Little Wolf had to be taken to the hospital in Hattiesburg for a physical examination, one that looked for signs of abuse or neglect, and a series of medical tests aiming to uncover the root of her amnesia. All of this was conducted in between dozens of interviews with the local police, as well as Child and Social Services.

It had been a long and miserable morning for the little redheaded kid who only wanted to be with her mom and dad.

Throughout the grueling hours between the police station and hospital, Little Wolf clung to Lorelei as if the woman were an island and the air was the sea. Lorelei tried her damnedest to make the day appear less daunting. She'd played crossword puzzles with Little Wolf between interviews, and had scored them some ice cream from the hospital cafeteria after lunch. Meanwhile, the sheriff worked with Child Protective Services to place Little Wolf with a state approved foster family until the police case was resolved.

“But I don't want to stay with someone else,” whined the little redhead. She peered up at Lorelei with a devastatingly vulnerable gaze, her blue eyes pleading. “Can't I stay with you?”

Lorelei was at a loss. Of course, she wouldn't mind if the child stayed with her, but the courts would never allow it. Lorelei wasn't registered with the Mississippi foster care system. There was nothing to be done.

“Right, Hank?” Lorelei asked the sheriff with a pointed stare. “There's nothing I can do, is there?”

Sheriff Bryant sighed and readjusted his uniform jacket. His eyes danced about the busy bullpen of the Hattiesburg police station, lips pursed and shoulders tense, plainly avoiding the twin stares of the young woman and little girl. “Aw, hell. Let me see what I can do.”

Luck, it appeared, was on the sheriff's side. Less than two hours later, Lorelei was completing paperwork to have her registration as a foster parent fast-tracked. Dotting her signature on the final page, the young woman smiled at the girl standing beside her. “Alright, Little Wolf, look's like you're coming home with me.”

* * *

In Gulfport, a fiercely protective mother and a homicidal uncle tracked down three Mississippi witches to the basement of a community center near Long Beach.

“I don't feel her, Elijah,” the young hybrid whispered as she surveyed the two story clapboard building, her voice heavy with a mother's sadness. “I don't feel Hope.”

The Mikaelson male frowned. “Nor do I.”

Elijah counted the heartbeats of the witches inside—three heartbeats, not four. He felt the burning impulse to storm the building and slaughter the lot of them. However, as it went, centuries of suppressing his more violent urges allowed reason to prevail. They would interrogate the witches first; then, the slaughter.

Ever the gentleman, Elijah tucked one arm to his abdomen, the other he extended forward in the polite manner of _'after you'_ and _'ladies first._ ' “Shall we?”

A sadistic smirk twisted Hayley's lips. “Let's.”

The righteous pair made it all of two feet before a hidden force stopped them in their tracks.

“Son of a bitch!” wailed Hayley in exasperation. She slapped at the invisible wall. “A boundary spell!”

“A clever precaution,” Elijah murmured. “But not clever enough.” The Original vampire withdrew a pocket lighter from inside his suit jacket and struck a flame. The orange light cast a glow across Hayley's face as she watched her former lover in curiosity. He elaborated, “If we cannot go in, we'll simply have to bring them out.”

Hayley's body thrummed with adrenaline. “Great. I'll get the gasoline.”

Half an hour later, the building was ablaze. Brilliant orange and yellow flames licked at the dull blue sky, hazy gray smoke coiling up toward the low-hanging clouds in great spirals. It wasn't long before the witches came pouring out of the collapsing structure, clawing their way through the flames and smoke, coughing and gasping for air. Elijah and Hayley made quick work of rendering them unconscious in their confused and panicked state.

The witches limp on the ground, Hayley looked to her partner. “Elijah, we have to get them out of here. Someone's bound to have seen the fire and called 911 by now. The first responders will be here soon.”

Elijah's gaze was lost on the ocean, vast and powerful and endless. It was an all too familiar void. “The port,” he replied. “We'll take them there.”

The Mississippi State Port Authority was less than half a mile down the beachfront, and fortunately, it stood all but abandoned midday that Monday—it seemed that everyone was out to lunch. With the witches on their backs, Hayley and Elijah made it to the maritime port with ease. They sped past dozens of rows of shipping containers to the end of the port where a Chinese freighter was docked in the deep waters. On the deck of the ship, Elijah made quick work of the locked door, and the Immortals hurried inside the hull.

“Follow me,” Elijah instructed before he hastily made his way to the depths of the freighter's cargo hold. Hayley sped along behind him, the witch on her back still firmly unconscious. At the door of the hold, Elijah deposited his two charges bluntly, their bodies dropping to the floor with a pair of hollow thuds. Following his lead, Hayley deposited her witch beside the others and asked, “How do you want to do this?”

Though it was Hayley's daughter at stake, there was no disputing the fact that Elijah had more experience than the young hybrid when it came to matters of torture and interrogation—centuries more experience at that.

Having opened the door to the cargo hold, Elijah plucked one of the witches from the floor and tossed her inside, carelessly. He stepped over the hold and reached to close the door behind him, answering Hayley, plainly, “Guard the others. I will handle this.”

Her jaw clenched. Hayley didn't appreciate being treated like a child. She had never once been spared the violence of the Mikaelson clan—because she hadn't _needed_ to be sheltered from it. She told the vampire as much.

“I have no illusions about what you are, Elijah.”

“Nevertheless,” replied Elijah, smoothly. Then, he promptly shut the door in her face.

Moments later, the screaming began.

* * *

Back at the Graham family farm, the Little Wolf seemed sad. Her doleful mood was more than understandable, given her frightening and somewhat traumatic circumstances of late. Not to mention that the child was exhausted from their harrowing morning in Hattiesburg. Despite Lorelei's efforts to cheer her up, the kid remained in a daze until late afternoon. So, Lorelei ditched her attempts at making the kid happy, and decided to put her to work, instead.

“Hey, Little Wolf, think you can help me with something?”

As with the day before, the little redhead assisted Lorelei with her daily care of the farm. Fitzgerald, of course, joined the girls as they traipsed around the wooded land, the labrador's tail wagging ceaselessly. The trio stopped at the chicken coop first. After cleaning out the chicken's water and adding a little more feed to the hanger, Little Wolf helped Lorelei collect eggs from the hen house.

“This is so cool...” whispered Little Wolf as she gingerly picked up a fresh egg from one of the box nests. She turned her amazed gaze on Lorelei. “Can we actually eat these?”

“We actually can.” The young woman grinned at the girl's wonderment. “We'll cook 'em for breakfast tomorrow, how about that?”

Next, the girls cut a path through the forest towards the horse stables. Along the way, Little Wolf stopped here and there to collect elderberries. Only, these berries weren't for paint; they were needed to make homemade jam—the idea of which excited Little Wolf even more than the fresh eggs.

At the stables, Little Wolf performed her duties as Resident Horse Feeder with great care. She tenderly fed Daisy sweet grass from her tiny kid palms and tossed apples in the air for Delilah to try and catch, giggling as Fitzgerald tried and failed to snatch up the apples before the horse could. As Little Wolf fed and petted the mares, a small smile worked its way onto her freckled face—a smile which would remain there the rest of the night.

While the kid doled out treats for the horses, Lorelei went about the dirty work, mucking out the stalls and shoveling the manure into a wheel barrel.

“What do you do with all of that?” asked Little Wolf, nose wrinkled at the mountain of horse poo.

“I save it and make a fertilizer with it. There's another farmer I know, and every two months or so, I trade him homemade fertilizer for fresh vegetables from his garden and the occasional loaf of his wife's baked bread.”

Little Wolf looked intrigued. “How did you meet the farmer?”

“I've sort of always known him...” Lorelei deposited the shovel by Daisy's stall door and grabbed the handles of the full wheel barrel. As she drove the manure around back, both Little Wolf and Fitzgerald followed dutifully, and Lorelei continued her explanation. “He was friends with my grandpa when I was growing up. They've been trading vegetables and homemade bread for fresh eggs and fertilizer for years.”

“Did your grandfather teach you to make the fertilizer?”

“He did. He taught me everything I know about the farm.” Lorelei propped the wheel barrel against the outside of the stable shelter and turned to poke Little Wolf's nose with her finger. “—everything I'm teaching you.”

Though Lorelei had embarked on their afternoon adventure around the farm with the intentions of lifting Little Wolf's spirits, it was she who gained the most from their time together. The young blond had spent the last few months on the farm in almost complete solitude, save for the occasional trip to town or visit from her cousin Jack and his family.

Lorelei had forgotten how nice it was to simply have someone besides Fitz around, especially someone as charming as Little Wolf.

“Thanks for all of your help today,” she told the little redhead.

Little Wolf replied, simply, kindly. “You're welcome.”

* * *

“Can I turn up the radio?”

Lorelei paused from scrubbing the plate, arms up to her elbows in soapy water, and replied, “Of course, kiddo.”

Little Wolf bounced over to the radio and turned the dial. Beyoncé's “Love on Top” wafted through the kitchen, bringing a smirk to Lorelei's face at the kid's somewhat surprising taste in music _._ Humming along to the catchy throwback tune, Little Wolf swayed and danced about as she finished collecting the dirty dinner dishes from the table.

_Come on, baby, its you. You're the one I love. You're the one I need._

Watching Little Wolf, Lorelei felt inspired. The young farm owner grabbed a dirty spatula, soap suds dripping down her arm, and spun, dramatically. In her loudest, silliest voice, she sang to Little Wolf. “You're the one that gives your all. You're the one I can always call...!”

Laughter bubbled out of the little girl, and she twirled around, arms raised to the ceiling, humming as loud as she could to a song whose words she did not know, but whose melody she adored. Lorelei reached for the redhead's hand, and together, they danced around the kitchen, singing and humming into the spatula microphone.

_Finally, you put my love on top!_

The girls discovered that post-dinner clean up went much quicker when performed as a musical, and when the dishes were all washed and the leftovers put away, Lorelei declared that it was time for pajamas. Fitzgerald bounded into the bedroom after Little Wolf, hopping up onto the bed once the little girl—in her fresh pjs—settled beneath the quilts. The dog curled into a ball at the foot of the bed. A loyal pup, he waited patiently for Lorelei to join them.

Lorelei scratched her beloved labrador behind the ears and dropped a kiss to his furry head. “G'night, Fitz.” She slipped into bed beside the kid. “Goodnight, Little Wolf.”

A sleepy murmur answered her. “Night, Lorelei.”

Lost in her thoughts, it took Lorelei quite some time to drift off to sleep. The last few days had been—crazy, hectic, stressful, _strange._ It was the most excitement that Lorelei had experienced since she began her year of self-imposed exile from New Orleans. In the face of Little Wolf's predicament, Lorelei cringed with guilt when she admitted to herself that she welcomed the upset of her solitary life on the farm. Lying in the darkness, she allowed her mind to drift to thoughts of kids with auburn hair and yellow dogs.

Just as the young woman's mind drifted to sleep, her cellphone vibrated on the nightstand with a text message from Sheriff Bryant.

_The Hattiesburg PD has sent reports to Jackson, Gulfport, Biloxi, Mobile, Baton Rouge, and New Orleans PDs. Hopefully, somebody somewhere will know something soon. Goodnight, Lorelei. Give the kid a hug for me._

Moonlight playing across the quiet bedroom, Lorelei encountered a surge of hope. Surely, someone would be looking for this little girl.

* * *

Elijah was still cleaning the blood from his hands when his cellphone rang.

“I am afraid I have nothing to report, brother. These witches, they are...” Shame welled in the pit of Elijah's stomach. The witches gave him nothing. Elijah Mikaelson, feared and loathed patriarch of the most infamous family of immortals ever known to cast their shadows upon the earth, had given his all in the quest to recover his beloved niece. The Original vampire had tormented the witches for hours, using every ounce of savagery and skill he possessed. Yet, they had revealed nothing. He was disgusted with himself, the very weight of his disgrace threatening to cripple him. He had failed Hope. He had failed them all. “—they know nothing.”

“Never fear, my brother.” Despite Elijah's confession, Klaus's tone was light, almost pleasant.

Elijah's brow furrowed. “What news have you, Niklaus? Has Freya found something?”

“No,” Klaus's tone momentarily faltered at the reminder that their sister, too, had been bested by these Mississippi witches, before the Original hybrid continued on in a far chipper spirit, “Actually, Marcellus has just called. One of his informants at the NOPD received word of a report out of Hattiesburg—a report of a child that has been found. Freya and I have just stolen a car—”

“Yes, of course,” clipped Elijah. “Hayley and I will meet you there at once.”

“See you soon, brother.”

* * *

At 9:03am on a quiet Tuesday morning in Hattiesburg, Mississippi, the Mikaelson quartet barged into the lobby of the local police station, the fury on their faces only outweighed by their determination.

“G'mornin,'” mumbled one of the officers on duty behind the front desk. His voice was partially muffled by the bushy mustache taking up residence atop his mouth. “If y'all are here to report a crime—”

“I'm looking for information on a missing child.” Klaus Mikaelson held up a photograph of his daughter. “I believe someone in this office filed a report about her yesterday. Tell me, where is she?”

The officer looked at the photo, then looked at the angry blonde gentleman, and then he looked at the other angry lookin' folks standing around him. He glanced back at the photo. “Uh huh. Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to—”

“Oh, enough of this,” growled Klaus. He lunged for the portly police officer, only to be snatched back into his brother's cage-like embrace. Elijah sighed, disappointed, in his ear. “Honestly, Niklaus, after all this time, you still fail to possess an ounce of finesse. Causing a scene here will only delay our cause. If you will...?”

“He's right, Klaus,” Hayley muttered, pulling on the Original hybrid's arm and allowing Elijah space to approach the officer.

“Now, look here, sir—” the cop began. Elijah flattened his palms on the counter top and peered into the officer's green eyes. He summoned his powers of compulsion and thought, faintly, how pathetic it was that this man's mind surrendered so willingly to his own. The vampire spoke in a deadly whisper, “You will tell me where this child is being held and how you came to know of her. Then, you will erase any and every trace of her existence from your files, as well as the state and federal systems. You will speak of this to no one. Do you understand?”

The dull veneer of compulsion settled over the man's round face with ease. “Yessir, I understand.”

* * *

Tuesday morning, Lorelei and Little Wolf started their day with a swim down in the lake.

“Fitzgerald can swim really fast,” Little Wolf remarked, her tone heavy with surprise. From her spot sun bathing on the dock, dangling feet skimming the water, Lorelei replied, “Of course, he can. He's got twice as many legs as we do.”

Little Wolf giggled. “A clear advantage.”

They'd been in the water for half an hour before Lorelei decided to get out and start drying off. She would need to begin her morning rounds on the farm soon, which now included feeding Little Wolf breakfast, too. The young woman checked her watch. “Five more minutes, kiddo. Then, we gotta head back up to the house.”

“Okay, Lorelei.”

Fitzgerald, branch stuck firmly between his teeth, paddled his way back over to where Little Wolf treaded water, her skinny, pale arms and legs moving back and forth beneath the surface of the lake. The kid took the stick from Fitzgerald's mouth and petted the yellow labrador lovingly between his wet ears.

“Okay, Fitz, one more time.” She launched the soggy stick into the air. “Go get it!”

The warmth of the sun on her skin, Lorelei listened to the kid and the dog playing happily in the lake. A pleasant feeling washed over her, one followed swiftly by a tightening in her stomach. This wasn't permanent, she kept having to remind herself. The kid was not hers to keep. One day soon, this would all end.

 _But what if it didn't?_ a traitorous voice teased. For all they knew, the little girl's family would never be found...

Lorelei instantly felt nauseous at the shame of her own dark thoughts. God, she was an awful person. The best thing for the kid would be for her to reunite with her family, and Lorelei knew that—even if some horrible, selfish part of her was starting to dream of a life in which her Little Wolf was there to stay.

* * *

“This doesn't make any sense.”

As the Mikaelson SUV approached the farm where the Hattiesburg officer had assured them her daughter was being held, Hayley struggled to wrap her head around the morning's strange turn of events. “If she's one of the witches, why would this woman report Hope missing?”

“Obviously, she's trying to lure us into some sort of trap,” snapped Klaus from the front seat.

“No,” Freya shook her head decisively. “She isn't one of the witches. I would have sensed her when I cast that scrying spell on the beach. Whoever she is— _whatever_ she is—, she's not a part of their coven.”

“So, she took Hope from the witches. Why?”

“I don't know, but if she was strong enough to take down the witches...” Freya murmured, her implication falling as if a heavy burden upon the shoulders of all inside the vehicle.

Silence reigned as Elijah maneuvered the SUV onto the gravel driveway of the farm. Finally, it was he that broke the deafening quiet. “However powerful she may be, she will be no match for our family. Not when so much is at stake.”

Beside him, Klaus smiled dangerously. “Elijah's right. There's nothing more powerful than _us_ when we're together and united against a common foe—always and forever.”

* * *

The cabin was pleasant. A modest one-story structure, it featured an exposed brick chimney, a cheerful splash of blue coloring on the front door, and a wide front porch, complete with a pair of rocking chairs and a porch swing. Bountiful flower beds covered the front lawn, and bird feeders hung from the porch rafters.

The home appeared terribly charming and wholesome.

“Do not be fooled by the quaint appearance of this place,” Elijah warned as his family exited the SUV en masse. He tried to listen for voices, or at least heartbeats, but found nothing. The vampire also noticed the distinct lack of magic in the air. “—this bucolic scene may be a mere front for the horrors that lie within.”

Together, the Mikaelsons ascended the porch steps.

The first chords of resistance began to tug at Klaus's center as he approached the front door—tell tale signs. The hybrid's brow furrowed in confusion and anger.“This home is owned by a human,” he snarled. “We cannot enter.”

Behind him, his sister smirked. “You can't, but _I_ can.”

Freya stepped around her younger brother and lifted a hand to the door knob. She gave it an exploratory twist to discover the home unlocked. Her siblings guarding her back, the Viking witch took a breath to steady herself and entered the cabin. She immediately sent out a magical pulse—it returned untouched.

“There's no one here,” she informed her siblings and moved further inside to inspect the home. Freya moved quickly from room to room, scouting for any sign of her niece. When she returned to the porch where her family waited—tense and coiled for a fight—, she held a cloth bundle in her hands. Children's clothing. She passed a shirt to Hayley and handed a pair of jeans to Klaus. “Are these Hope's?”

Hayley sniffed the purple t-shirt, and the results were instantaneous. Her eyes watered, her sensitive nose overwhelmed with the familiar scent of her only daughter. “She was wearing this recently. She might have slept in it last night.”

Suddenly, Elijah's head snapped towards the east, and in a single, blurry second, he was standing twelve feet away in the yard. “Someone's coming.”

The Mikaelsons watched the pair approaching from the east. A woman and a child, they wore bathing suits and were dripping wet, laughing and chatting as they crossed the forest, their bare feet crunching leaves and twigs as they went. An equally damp, yellow dog followed along happily behind them. Its tail wagged lazily, and it carried a stick between its teeth. There was nothing abnormal about the scene—the smiling woman, the giggling child—, except that the child was a Mikaelson.

It was Hayley who moved first.

In a flash, she was off the porch and dashing for her daughter, shouting as she went. “Hope! Hope, honey, we're here!”

When the young woman holding Elijah's niece hostage spotted the family of Immortals, she did not flee, nor raise her arms in defense. The eldest Mikaelson brother watched as the woman's face contorted in confusion; he watched as she attempt to process the scene before her, to assess the danger imposed by the four strangers in her yard, and the Original was shocked to the core when, finally, she reacted.

The woman stepped in front of Hope, as if to protect Hope from _them._

Even more stunning was Hope's reaction. The child did not run to her mother, or her father, but clung to this woman—this _stranger_ who had kept her from them—as if afraid of her own family.

“Hope...?” Hayley asked, skidding to a stop, her boots kicking up the soil. “Honey?”

Before the littlest Mikaelson could respond, Klaus acted. He sped over to the pair and snatched the woman up by the throat, pinning her with an impressive ferocity to the trunk of the nearest pine tree. “You will pay for what you have done,” he growled, the veins of his face and hands growing black.

As the thunderous sound of the woman's back colliding with the tree echoed in the forest around them, Hope bolted toward her father with a shrill cry of, “Lorelei!”

Elijah and Freya drew closer to the fray, and Hayley knelt before Hope, catching her before the child could reach her father. “Honey, its—its me. Its mom,” Hayley pleaded, ached, begged for her daughter to look at her, to hug her, to fall happily and safely into her arms. But Hope only stared at her mother in horror, slowly backing away, her tiny body shaking.

Hope was _terrified_ of her family.

Hayley turned a yellow gaze on the woman, her face clouded with rage. “ _What_ have you done to my daughter?”

The woman gasped for breath against Klaus's hold. Her feet were barely touching the ground, her cheeks flushing red. With frantic movements, she clawed at Klaus's hands, attempting to break his hold. She, too, looked terrified.

“Speak carefully, wench. These words very may well be your last.” Klaus relinquished a fraction of his grip on her throat.

The stranger began to wheeze, the slightest trickle of air finding its way down her throat. When the woman spoke, it was not to threaten Klaus with whatever vile plan she had devised, nor was it to explain to Hayley what sort of sorcery she had worked on their beloved Hope. Instead, she looked to the child, and with a shuddering breath, utter a single word. “ _Run._ ”

Without hesitation, Hope turned and dashed into the forest.

Her family watched in a stupor, amazed and horrified. What on earth was happening? Why was their darling Hope running from _them_?

Once again, it was Hayley who reacted first, moving on a mother's instinct. She raced after her daughter and captured Hope in her arms. “Hope, sweetie, we aren't here to hurt you,” she spoke softly, calmly into her daughter's ear, even as the child began to thrash against her embrace. “Hope, I'm your mom. Its me. We're here to take you home. You're safe, honey. You're safe now.”

“Let me go! Get off of me!”

As Hope fought for escape, the yellow labrador that had accompanied the girls on their trek through the woods began to bark in Hope's defense. The dog sprang into action in the face of Hope's peril, nipping at Hayley's heels and clawing threateningly at the earth. Summoning her wolf, Hayley glowered at the protective animal and growled until the labrador recognized and submitted to the Alpha.

All the while, Hope continued to fight against Hayley, and the woman continued to fight against Klaus.

The Original hybrid tightened his hold on the stranger's throat once more. “What have you done to my daughter, you witch?” Even as Klaus spoke the words, he knew that his assertion of her magical nature was false. He couldn't sense a trace of magic inside of her—witch, werewolf, vampire, or otherwise. This woman was human. Klaus's lips curled in anger. Had she been compelled? Had another vampire been behind this all along?

Behind him, Hayley called out to his sister. “Freya! Get over here and tell me what's wrong with Hope.”

“Yes,” Klaus agreed sinisterly. “And while you do your work, sister, I shall do mine.”

Klaus summoned his psychic gifts and plunged into the human's mind without warning.

Inside the stranger's head, the hybrid saw it all. _Elderberries and freshly laid eggs and car rides with Sheriff Hank Bryant and painting with leaves and Beyonc_ _é_ _and horses named Delilah and Daisy and—_ Klaus's mind shuttered against the woman's— _Little Wolf._ Exiting her mind, Klaus released the woman immediately. He knew she was of no threat to them.

The woman tumbled into a heap to the leaves and dirt below. Her hands flew to her throat as she gasped for air, tears spilling from her eyes. “What...” Her words were muddled by her labored breathing. “—what did you do to me?”

“Niklaus...?” The confusion was apparent in his older brother's voice.

“This woman is the human who owns the home. She's been...” Klaus paused, eyes searching for understanding. In a strange voice of disbelief, Klaus informed them, “—caring for Hope.”

“Caring for her? How?” asked Elijah. “How has Hope come to be here?”

“I think I can answer that,” replied Freya. The witch's hands dropped from Hope's temples, the child now rendered magically unconscious in Hayley's arms. Freya stood and explained the great mystery to her family. “The Mississippi witches weren't cloaking Hope. She hasn't been with the witches for _days_.”

“No, she's been here, living with this woman.” Klaus made a vague gesture to the human. Freya nodded, as if that much was evident, and continued, “When the witches took her, Hope's fear manifested her magic. It transported her to a safe place near by—this farm—and cloaked her. I couldn't find her because _Hope_ was blocking me.”

Freya looked at her sleeping niece. “And she didn't even know it.”

“Why did she not call for us?” Elijah questioned, misunderstanding dotting his elegant brow.

“Because she doesn't remember us,” answered Klaus. He'd seen it all in the woman's mind—his daughter's amnesia, her sadness at the loss of a life she could not even recall. “The force of her powers manifesting under such traumatic circumstances must have caused her memory loss.”

Freya shrugged. “Its possible.”

“But you'll be able to get them back, right? You can bring her memories back.” Hayley hugged her daughter's body to her chest. The hybrid's heart raced, despite having recovered her daughter; the sight of Hope running from her in fear had tipped the young mother's frazzled nerves over the edge.

“I can try.” Freya knelt and reached for Hope—and the woman scrambled to her feet.

“Please, please don't hurt her,” the woman begged. “Look, whatever you people want you can—”

“You have nothing we could possibly want,” snapped Klaus. “Save my daughter. Which we will take as she is rightfully ours. You've had your fun borrowing her. Now, its time to give her back.” The Original added a beat later, a clear afterthought. “Many thanks for taking such care of our Hope. You have our gratitude.”

“If she is—” the blond woman, now standing, her throat red and raw, spoke with a ragged voice. “If she is your daughter, let's go to the police station. They'll have paperwork and—”

“I'm afraid that's not necessary.”

Elijah stood before the woman in a flash. The fear that rolled off of her in ceaseless waves was genuine, and the eldest Mikaelson brother was surprised to determine the source of her fear was Hope. She was worried not for her own life, but for the life of his niece. Elijah was curious as to what had transpired here over the last few days. How was it that this woman came to care so much for his niece? How was it that she was as bewitched by the littlest Mikaelson as they all were, it having been only a manner of days?

Their eyes caught, and Elijah found himself lost in a lazy sea of blue. Though her stare was colored with fear, she met his gaze evenly. The vampire raised his hand, his daylight ring catching the sun, and the tips of his fingers hovered just over her temples. He longed to dive into her mind, to see what Niklaus has seen, but before Elijah could, Hope awakened in her mother's arms.

“M-mom?”

A fresh batch of tears burst forth from Hayley's eyes. “Hope!”

As mother and child embraced, a smug and deliriously happy smile covered Klaus's face. They had done it. They had retrieved his daughter, safe and sound, her memories restored and their lives right back on track. Always and forever. The Mikaelson _crisis du jour_ was over.

Hope's brilliant blue eyes caught her father's. “Dad!”

The little darling sprinted into her father's hug, squeezing tightly, her tiny body rippling with joy. “Dad, you found me,” she murmured, her face pressed to his side. Drawing back, Hope went to thank her family for rescuing her, when she remembered Lorelei.

Eyes wide, she looked frantically between her parents. “Mom, dad, you can't hurt Lorelei. She didn't hurt me. She saved me. She—”

“Its alright, sweetheart,” Klaus replied, in a tone far softer than before. “We won't hurt your friend. She's been an excellent nanny, but now its time to go home.” He told his brother, “Elijah, if you will.”

"Of course.” Elijah caught the woman's tanned face in his hands, steadying her frightened gaze. Her skin was soft to the touch, and as the first echoes of compulsion began to stir within him, she brought her hands up to his own, her delicate fingers curling around his wrists. The woman trembled in his grasp, her voice a whisper that fell flat in the quiet forest, “What are you doing to me?”

"Uncle Elijah, no!”

Hayley restrained her daughter. “Honey, we have to. She's a human. She can't get tangled up in all of this.” She squeezed Hope's shoulder reassuringly. “Its not safe for her to know about us.”

Hope turned a tearful look upon her mother. “Can I at least say goodbye?”

The hybrid's heart shattered at the look on her daughter's face. Hayley ran a hand through her daughter's hair affectionately, feeling overwhelmed by the force of her love for the sweet child. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Elijah abruptly dropped the woman's face and stepped aside as his niece crossed the woods to fling herself upon the woman. The little redhead hugged her farm companion fiercely. “I'm going to miss you, Lorelei.”

Lorelei knelt, fat tears rolling endlessly down her face as she fought a sob, and squeezed the little girl. “I'm gonna miss you, too, Little Wolf,” she cried. The crushed cadence of her voice was heartbreaking, and Hayley shared a knowing look with Klaus at the use of the familiar nickname. The Original hybrid smirked proudly. Even in the absence of her memory, his daughter had remembered that. _My littlest wolf._

The woman drew back to gingerly tug on a lock of Hope's auburn hair. “This is your family?” she asked, eyes searching Hope's face for certainty.

“They are. Its okay, I'm safe, I promise. My family won't hurt me,” Hope reassured the woman. Her own blue eyes blurring with tears, Hope called the Fitzgerald over and proceeded to pet and hug the yellow labrador. “Bye, Fitz...” She looked up at Lorelei. Her little chin quivered as she fought her sadness. She didn't want to say goodbye. Lorelei was her _friend._ But the littlest Mikaelson knew that her mother was right. Their world was too dangerous for a human, even one as amazing as Lorelei. “Thank you for helping me, Lorelei.”

Lorelei stroked a finger down Hope's freckled cheek. “Anytime, kiddo.”

With that, Hope walked back to her mother and swallowed hard, her gaze steadying on Lorelei as her uncle raised a hand to the woman's temple.

“What are you going to do to me?”

Elijah's fingertips brushed her skin, his fingers sliding into the wet tresses of her hair as he cradled her face. “I'm going to make you forget.”

As Elijah's mind first slithered into the woman's, the Original vampire couldn't help but peak at her memories, his curiosity at his niece's evident affection towards the woman spurning the intimate invasion. In a single moment, he endured it all—her fear, her confusion, and above all, her love for Hope. Like his brother before him, Elijah witnessed the fun, the joy and play and comfort, this woman had provided his niece, and in that very breath, Elijah was consumed by an undying gratitude and awe for this human.

“Forgive me,” he whispered, his gaze lost in the dull blue eyes of the kindest human he'd never had the pleasure to know, and then, “You will forget this child. You will forget her face, her voice... You will forget the people who took her from you, and you will resume your life, happily. You will not miss her.” Elijah swallowed his guilt. This woman had done so much for his family, and yet, he stood to take away from her even the very memory of the little one whom she'd cared for. He stroked a thumb across the woman's cheek, her eyes already glazed with the force of his compulsion, and added, softly, “You will find peace.”

Then, contrition coiling around his heart, Elijah left the woman in her daze and headed for the cabin.

Elijah's sudden departure signaled the end of their little outing for the other Mikaelsons. Klaus scooped his daughter into his arms and began shepherding his family towards the car. While they loaded into the Mikaelson SUV, Elijah confiscated everything from inside the farm house—the little girl's clothing, the paintings hanging on the fridge, the extra toothbrush from the bathroom—and in a mere moment, every trace of Hope Mikaelson vanished from the life of Lorelei Graham.

As the family of Immortals drove away from the Graham farm, Hope curled into her mother's lap and tried not to cry.

* * *

Fitzgerald's barking brought Lorelei back to her senses.

“What?” The young woman looked down at her dog in confusion and took a moment to gather her bearings.

They were standing just inside the woods near the cabin, her bathing suit still wet from her morning swim in the lake, and a glance at her watch told Lorelei that she needed to prepare for her round of morning chores.

So, why had she stopped?

A feeling akin to déjà vu washed over her. Her eyes wandered around the familiar forest, searching for something she couldn't place. At her heel, Fitzgerald continued to bark. “Alright, alright, Fitz,” she ruffled the dogs ears lovingly, shaking off her unease. “Alright, boy. Let's go...the horses aren't gonna feed themselves.”

The woman walked toward the cabin, her loyal companion at her side, and resumed her day as normal.


	2. Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Hayley goes missing, Elijah takes Hope to the Graham farm for safe keeping. How will Lorelei handle the return of her favorite Little Wolf and the arrival of an Original vampire? Featuring much more fluff, some romance, and a little less violence.
> 
> OR: “My family will forever be in your debt,” Elijah told Lorelei, his voice breaking the peace. “—with all that you've done for Hope. Not only do you have our gratitude, but you have our friendship.”
> 
> A lazy grin tugged at the woman's lips. “I don’t think your brother likes me very much. I doubt he wants to be friends.”
> 
> Elijah conceded, humored. “Point taken. Well, you have his gratitude, and you have Hope’s friendship—and mine, as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a dirty rotten liar. I said this would be out ages ago, and yet...
> 
> So sorry!

It was not often that Elijah Mikaelson found himself at Rousseau's.

His visits to the French Quarter dive bar often came with a purpose—interrogate someone, intimidate someone else—, but that night he had no reason to frequent Rousseau's other than the simple fact that he desired _not_ to be at home. That evening marked the second anniversary of Hope's return from the Graham farm, and Elijah desired to give his brother some much-treasured alone time with his daughter and her mother.

“You're not here to kill anyone are you?”

“Good evening to you, too, Joshua,” replied Elijah, his tone one of unaffected boredom. The Original couldn't be bothered to look at the barkeep. Instead, his dark gaze flittered around the dingy establishment, open to the possibilities of a late-night snack. “I do hope you don't speak to all of your patrons in this manner. I can't imagine that such a practice is good for business.”

The young vampire shuffled impatiently. “What can I get you, Elijah?”

“Scotch, please.” Then, he added, as an afterthought, “Top shelf, of course.”

As Josh turned to fetch the Original's drink, the vampire nearly twitched when Elijah's voice followed after him. “Oh, and might I request that you play something a little less...crass?”

The struggle not to roll his eyes overpowered Josh. There was nothing wrong with the music—Big Freedia was a New Orleans treasure, but of course, Elijah probably preferred the tunes of New Orleans' yester-years. Behind the bar, Josh scrolled through the iPad he had docked to the speaker system and found some classic jazz playlist on Spotify. Though it pained him to submit to the whims of a Mikaelson, it was a small price to pay to ensure that Elijah didn't slaughter half the customers in the bar. Or all of them, for that matter.

Much to Elijah's pleasure, the thumping bass of Freddie Ross's alter ego died out, replaced by the dramatic rise of Fats Domino's “Walking to New Orleans.” The hint of a smirk tipped the corner of the Original's mouth as Josh returned to drop his scotch unceremoniously on the table, obviously annoyed with the older vampire's presence. Nonetheless, Elijah tipped his head in gratitude. “Much obliged.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

The door to Rousseau's opened, an evening breeze skirting around the ankles of the dive bar's inebriated patrons, and a peculiar scent tickled Elijah's nose. The scent was particular not in its composition, but in that the Original vampire had smelled it before—yet, the scent was not immediately recognizable to him. Mere seconds passed before Elijah determined the source of the intriguing smell.

It was her. The woman.

Waiting at the bar with her back to him, she stood—the woman from the Mississippi farm where his niece had hidden from a coven of dastardly witches out to harm the Mikaelsons. Two years had passed, and yet there she stood, the woman to whom he and his family owed everything.

"Fascinating,” he whispered to himself, the word falling from his lips seemingly of its own accord.

Before he could think better about it, Elijah had risen to his feet and was across the bar at her side. When their arms brushed, she spared him a glance—one that he met with a polite smile, which she returned. Though she turned from him quickly, Elijah was delighted to feel the slight up-tick in her heart beat, to feel the swift rush of blood to her cheeks.

A grin wound its way onto his lips, and without taking his eyes from her, Elijah raised two fingers to motion the bartender over. Behind the counter, Josh appeared and narrowed his eyes at the older vampire, as if to say, 'you have your scotch and your music, what could you possibly want now?'

“Joshua, please put the lady's drink on my tab.”

The woman looked at Josh first, then at the vampire at her side. “Oh, that's okay. Thank you, though.”

Elijah's grin only grew. “Please, I insist.”

“That's really not necessary,” she replied in a much firmer tone before shooting Josh a look that clearly implied he would lose a limb—or two—if he billed her drink at Elijah's behest.

The feminist in Elijah forced him to concede. “As you wish.” He dismissed Josh with a wave of his hand. “I apologize if I seem forward. I have no desire to make you uncomfortable.”

“I'm plenty comfortable,” the young woman said with a confident, light tone. She flashed him a brief smile, one that seemed to both accept his apology and impress the fact that she wasn't too concerned about his agenda. It was a polite, removed sort of smile meant to placate without effort. He could only assume that women had to use those smiles all too often.

“What brings you out tonight?” he asked, attempting a casual tone. He half-expected her not to answer, but was pleasantly surprised when she muttered, “I'm waiting on some friends, actually.”

“Oh, are you local?”

“Used to be. I used to live in Mid City, but I moved away a few years ago.”

“How come?” he asked, genuinely intrigued.

The smile she gave him was small and a little wounded. “Family.”

“Ah.” Elijah sipped his scotch, a toast to the all-too-familiar trappings of family drama. The woman seemed to detect his kindred spirit in this regard, smirking, “You, too, eh?”

The corner of his mouth piqued. “My siblings can be... _theatrical_.”

A laugh escaped her, and the woman held up her hands in mock-surrender. “You have me beat there. I'm an only child.” 

“Consider yourself lucky.”

As she slowly trailed a finger around the rim of her mixed drink—cranberry and vodka, Elijah believed—the woman began to hum along with the Duke Ellington song playing softly throughout Rousseau's. Elijah watched her, his dark gaze greedily drinking in the way her loose curls shook with each tilt of her head, and the slight, creeping flush of her cheeks, and the steady rise and fall of her chest, largely exposed in the low-cut, black tank top she wore.

She looked so different there in the dimly lit bar, with cosmetics enhancing her face and jeans clinging to her hips. So, so different from the woman who'd walked barefoot through the forest with dripping wet hair and a beach towel over one shoulder, his niece and a dog trailing happily along behind. There, on that farm in Mississippi, she had looked at home, at peace. Here, bringing her glass to her lips, pretending not to notice the way he watched her, she looked wild and free.

Elijah could not decide which version of her he liked better. 

The Original vampire felt the sudden desire to speak to her of his niece, to give voice to the few dozen thoughts speeding through his mind, to delve into her own mind to find answers to the questions he had surmised two years ago. The hows and whys of this woman's relationship with Hope, and the ins and outs of their time together.

Feeling the weight of his stare, the woman fixed him with a quirked eyebrow. She peered up at him expectantly, and the busyness of his mind stilled under the focus of those cool, blue eyes. Elijah felt—quite suddenly and deeply—that he wished to know this woman.

Elijah's train of thought was interrupted by the arrival of her friends—three other women and two men who immediately splintered, half flocking for the bar as the others sought a large booth in the back of the crowded establishment. The woman was instantly enveloped in hugs and brief kisses pressed to flushed cheeks, and as her friends collected their drinks, she turned to Elijah, much to his surprise. With a simple but sincere grin, she gestured his glass. “Enjoy your drink...and your family theatrics.”

Her drink in hand, she stepped away from the bar, but not before she reached back to give Elijah's hand a friendly squeeze. As their skin brushed, a comforting warmth settled across his skin, and Elijah could not stop himself from giving in to the impulse.

He felt his psychic powers sever the threads of compulsion that bound her mind.

The woman made it all of two steps away before she spun and exclaimed in utter disbelief, “Son of a _bitch_.”

The Original gave a half-shrug. “I've certainly been called worse. Though, there is a ring of truth to it.”

“Lorelei—” One of her friends called over the din of the busy bar. “—are you okay?”

“I'm fine, Mer,” she replied, though her gaze never left the vampire. With flames in her eyes and the fiercest look of determination Elijah had ever seen on a human, she demanded, “Where is she? Where's the kid?”

This was a mistake. Niklaus would not approve.

Nonetheless, Elijah stood and draped his suit jacket easily over his shoulder. He gave a wry grin and extended the offer like the serpent extended the apple. “Would you like to see her?”

* * *

As they wandered the streets of the French Quarter together, Lorelei was doing her best not to stare at the man strolling along beside her.

This man— _Elijah,_ he'd introduced himself _—_ was somehow both elegantly beautiful and devilishly handsome. His aristocratic features—high, well-defined cheekbones, a strong jaw, a straight nose—were like something out of a Renaissance painting, or a Michelangelo come to life. He was immaculately groomed and dressed. The state of his hair, skin, and eyebrows showed meticulous care, and Lorelei had a distinct feeling that the suit he wore was custom-made and that the watch on his wrist had cost more than her truck. He was the sort of man that Lorelei immediately disregarded—because men like that were, historically, not interested in women like her.

Back at the bar, Lorelei had thought him both instantly beautiful and handsome—and familiar. As if she had seen his face before on the cover of a book or in an old photograph. Familiar, but unknown.

Now, with her mind freed, Lorelei knew that he was one of the men that had taken Little Wolf away.

“How do you know her? The girl...?”

“Her name—” he replied, gently. “—is Hope, and she is my niece.”

Lorelei's eyebrows drew in confusion. This man was nothing like her Little Wolf. He was dark where she was light. He was powerful and dangerous where she was warmhearted and care-free. Surely, they couldn't be from the same family...

“And the others who were with you that day…?”

He made a thoughtful noise, like he approved of her train of questions, and answered, succinctly. “The man was my brother, Niklaus, Hope's father. The women? Hope's mother, Hayley, and our sister, Freya, Hope's aunt.”

She snorted, darkly. “So back at the bar...the theatrical siblings...” 

The attractive man's lips twitched into a smirk. “My dear, you don't know the half of it.”

As they walked, they passed a street musician, and Lorelei was surprised when her companion dropped a folded fifty-dollar bill into the performer's open trumpet case. “You support the local arts?”

“I support music of any kind.”

Lorelei thought of her grandfather and his extensive vinyl collection. Of the hours he would spend recounting for her the histories and legends of New Orleans jazz and Mississippi Delta blues. Thoughts of her family, however, quickly doubled back around to this strange man and the family of which he was a part. She wanted to ask more about them. Why were they all so...odd? Were there more of their kind? How did they get to be...whatever it was that they were?

But her desire to hear more about the kid outweighed her curiosity about the unusual family.

“How is she?”

A genuine smile settled across the man's elegant features. “She is incredible. She is clever and charming, far too much for her own good, and she's terribly kind.”

Lorelei mirrored his smile. That sounded like her precocious Little Wolf, alright. “And she's safe? And happy?”

A hand reached out to rest on her arm, reassuringly. When she met his dark, piercing gaze, Lorelei shivered. Elijah peered down at her with so much sincerity and intensity—like he completely understood the depths of her devotion to this child with whom she'd spent a mere three days—and answered, earnestly, honestly, “Of course.”

A wave of relief washed over her.

Lorelei allowed herself a deep breath and felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. For two years, she had been carrying Atlas's burden—this aching worry about and the loss of her Little Wolf—, and she hadn't known why. Now, remembering the kid and knowing that she was safe and happy, Lorelei could breathe freely for the first time in years.

Then—a sudden, fearful thought gripped her mind. “Please don't do that again,” she begged, halting in the middle of the sidewalk, tourists weaving around them, to gaze at him with pleading eyes. “The...the mind thing, erasing my memories and all that. I can't—I just can't take it. Even though the memories were gone, my emotions were still there. I _missed_ her, only I didn't know it. And I worried about her, though I didn't know what it was I worried about...” There on the corner of Royal and Toulouse, Lorelei reached for Elijah. With his hands in her own, the young woman pleaded, “Please don't take me to see her if you're just going to take her away from me again.”

Her heart did not stop racing until he gave a solemn nod. “You have my word.”

Lorelei continued to breathe.

* * *

At home, Hayley had just finished rinsing her hands in the sink of the en suite bathroom in the bedroom she shared with Klaus. The young hybrid was about to retreat back downstairs to rejoin her lover and their daughter for game night when she heard it—the distinct thud of footsteps on the balcony.

There, standing in the open window, burgundy curtains dancing in the wind, the stranger's dark skin shown magically in the moonlight.

“Who are you?” the hybrid demanded, her tone unforgiving, hackles already rising as the young mother tensed for a fight.

“My name is Luciene.”

Recognition prickled at Hayley's nose. “You're a Crescent.”

“Yes, I am,” the woman declared boldly. “And on behalf of the Crescent City Wolf Pack—we need to talk.”

* * *

When they arrived at the historic, Mikaelson compound—their beloved Abbatoir—, Elijah and Lorelei discovered Klaus and Hope lounging on the couches in the courtyard, a game of Monopoly cluttering the table between them. As Elijah strolled through the gates with their guest in tow, he was happy to see that Hope was in immediate proximity to her father, if for no other reason than her presence would hopefully dissuade Klaus from attacking the woman at Elijah's side.

Hope spotted them first.

Disbelief and delight danced across her freckled cheeks as the littlest Mikaelson gasped, “ _Lorelei_!” Without hesitation, Hope instantly sprung to her feet and made a mad dash to bodily tackle her friend into a fierce hug. Face pressed to Lorelei's shoulder, Hope beamed. “What are you doing here?”

Though the Original hybrid remained seated on the sofa, Klaus's posture had stiffened significantly, as if ready to pounce at a moment's notice. “Yes, Elijah, what _is_ she doing here? Didn't we compel her? I thought we compelled her.” Klaus cut his older brother with a vicious stare. “Elijah, didn't you compel her?”

“Yes, Niklaus.” Elijah humored his temperamental little brother, keeping his tone light for the girls. He smiled over Lorelei's shoulder at Hope, who gazed up at her uncle and her friend with wonder and happiness in equal measure, obviously crediting him for her joyous reunion with her farm-owning friend 

“Compelled?” Lorelei muttered, looking to Elijah, though her arms remained firmly around Hope. 

“Irrelevant,” he assured her. Crossing to his brother's side, Elijah tilted his head toward the girls as they embraced, as if to say, _Look, Niklaus. Observe your child's happiness_. Klaus ignored his brother's smug expression, watching the stranger hug his daughter with suspicion and jealously clouding his dark eyes. Before the ornery hybrid could proffer a caustic retort, Hope pulled away from the woman and blurted out, “I'm so glad you're here!” before she spun to face her father. “Dad, can I show Lorelei my room? I want to show her my paintings of the farm.”

A wistful smile fluttered across the woman's face. Her fingers reached, almost absentmindedly, to curl around a piece of Hope's auburn hair as she was taken back to autumn days when she and the little girl had crushed berries and leaves into homemade paints. “You painted the farm?”

“Yes, she paints many scenes...” Klaus declared, calling the woman's attention to himself. He watched with pleasure as trepidation dawned across her tanned face. No doubt the young woman recalled the feel of his fingers crushing her throat. She would be wise to fear him still; his daughter, however, would not. So, Klaus smiled sweetly at his only child. “Of course, sweetheart. As you wish.”

Without further ado, the little girl captured Lorelei's hand and promptly escorted her deeper into the compound.

Elijah was pleased to note the woman cast a small glance his way before willfully following his niece. The eldest Mikaelson brother savored the minute victory. Hope and Lorelei were reunited, and they were both happier for it. In this, Elijah could feel a modicum of relief for those initial months of guilt at having in some way caused their separation through compulsion. Unfortunately, with his brother in attendance, his relief was short-lived.

“Honestly, brother, what were you thinking, bringing her here? Tell me, did you go and fetch her simply to ruin my night with my daughter and her mother? What have I done to deserve such betrayal, mhmm?”

Elijah ambled over to the drink cart, his fingers skating across the glasses in search of the bourbon. “Please, Niklaus, spare me your hysterics. I fetched no one. It may be difficult for you to believe, little brother, but I simply ran into Lorelei at Rousseau's—”

“Oh, its Lorelei, is it? Come now, when's the wedding? Shall I have Marcel send out invites?”

The smirk twisting Klaus's lips was, truly, too much for Elijah to bear. With a sigh, Elijah poured himself a drink and attempted to avoid an argument via subversion. He swiftly changed the subject. “How is family night going?” One look at the gameboard told him that Hope was winning. “Victory is not on your side, I see.”

Klaus slumped back into the couch, deciding to play along with Elijah's manipulation of the conversation. “Excellent, barring an interruption from a most inconsiderate brother of mine.”

“You seem to be missing a player.”

“Hayley's upstairs in the bathroom,” he replied, boredly. Then, his brow furrowed, and his gaze flickered to the duel staircases. “She's been gone for quite some time now, actually...perhaps, I should check on her.”

Elijah waved his hand. “Be my guest.”

With a frown—he didn't require his brother's permission—, Klaus stood and zipped upstairs. Left alone, Elijah imbibed in bourbon and lazily wandered toward Hope's bedroom. As he drew near, their voices drifted towards him, the excited rush of Hope's precocious lilt mixing with Lorelei's smooth, brassy murmurs. 

“...have it.”

“Thank you, really. I love it. I'll frame it and hang it above the fireplace in the living room, how's that?”

“Do you think Fitz will recognize himself?” Hope giggled.

Propped against the doorway of his niece's bedroom, Elijah towered over the girls. Seated on the rug in the center of the room, they were surrounded by dozens of artworks—oil paintings on small canvases, water colors, pastel drawings, and pencil sketches, his niece's numerous works were scattered around them in a large, wonky circle of wild colors and bold shapes. Replying to Hope's question, Lorelei gestured to the painting in her hand—a painting of a yellow dog. “How could he not? You're like a little Monet. This is an excellent impression.”

Hope grinned, pleased with herself, then she shrugged and mumbled, “I don't really like Monet...dad says he was a poor man's Degas.”

Lorelei snorted. Though she seemed to disagree, the woman chose not to respond to the critique, and instead, stood and moved toward the far wall where a sizeable painting of Hope hung between the vanity and her bed. “Did you do this...? A self-portrait?”

“No, my dad painted it.” The pride in Hope's voice was unmistakable. “Mom says that's where I get it from.”

“He's talented,” Lorelei conceded. “You both are.”

As they were ignorant to his presence, Elijah was able to observe from the hallway as woman and child reconnected—and it was beautiful. A delightfully charming sight to behold, he marveled at their effortless banter and conversation, the way that both girls seemed instantly at ease with one another, comfortable, familiar, homey. Despite the seed of doubt lingering in his stomach, Elijah knew he made the right decision in removing Lorelei's compulsion as he gazed upon their mirrored smiles.

It was a perfect moment.

Then, —

“ _Elijah!_ ”

Startled, two pairs of frightened eyes met his own. Caught, Elijah pressed forward a calming grin as Klaus continued to wail in the background. “Wait here,” he instructed firmly, before receding to his brother's side in a flash.

“Whoa,” Lorelei gasped as the man hovering in the doorway seemed to evaporate—vanished on the spot. “What was that?”

Hope looked bashful. “Uh, um...my family's very...fast.”

“No kidding.”

* * *

Seconds later, Klaus stormed onto the balcony above from the confines of his bedroom to slap his hands down on the iron railings and declare, “Hayley is missing! She's gone!" 

Elijah felt the sickest sense of déjà vu cascade over him. _Not again._ “Missing?”

Klaus's eyes briefly flashed yellow. “ _Yes_. The bedroom is a mess, no doubt the signs of a struggle, and she isn't answering her phone.”

“Klaus,” Freya, who had emerged at the sound of her baby brother's screams, cautioned. “Let's not jump to conclusions. Maybe Hayley was looking for something—”

“I know the difference between a ransacking and a conflict!” Klaus roared, his grip on the railing tightening so much that the iron bent beneath his will. The hybrid made a great show of calming down, taking a low breath and glaring up at the sky above. “Someone has taken Hayley, this I know. We _must_ find her at once.” 

“Of course, brother,” submitted Freya, as Elijah echoed the sentiment, “Yes, Niklaus, and we shall…Freya, will you—”

“Cast a scrying spell, of course. I'll also check with the witches in the Tremé, see if Vincent and the others have heard anything.”

Elijah emitted a noise of agreement, and added, “Someone should check with the wolves.”

“You go, brother,” Klaus demanded, zipping down to the first-floor landing. “I'll scour the Quarter.”

“What about Hope?” asked Freya as the firstborn Mikaelson raised her eyebrows expectantly. The Original hybrid jerked, as if he'd forgotten that his daughter was home. His mouth opened, perhaps to proffer a solution, but none came. It was Elijah who stepped forward, “I'll take her with me. She can stay with Mary while I interrogate the wolves.”

Klaus scoffed, crudely. “No. Out of the question. Hayley might trust that swamp rat of a wolf with our daughter, but I don't.”

Freya began to argue immediately, citing the numerous times that Mary had shown loyalty to Hayley—to Hope—and Elijah sighed, a slight throbbing creeping up behind his temples. They didn't have time for this. If Hayley was taken—and wasn't that a troubling thought? that whatever enemy they faced this time was strong enough to take down a hybrid, an alpha—, they had no time to spare. Every moment spent squabbling was a moment wasted.

“Lorelei can take her.”

The second the words left his lips, both brother and sister froze, their petty arguments trailing off as they looked at the eldest Mikaelson brother with confusion and judgment, in equal measure.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Klaus growled. “She's only human. How can she possibly hope to protect my daughter?”

“Because I will go with her.”

And, honestly, it wasn't too long ago that Elijah was in a similar situation, on a farm in the middle of nowhere with a human woman, hiding his niece and protecting her from their enemies in the world. Elijah thought, faintly, fondly, of Camille O'Connell and of mending a fence and of his niece, tiny and precious.

“No, brother, I need you here. With me.” Klaus’s speech was clipped, but his words wavered, uncertain, as Freya asked, perplexed, gazing flickering back and forth between her younger siblings, “Who’s Lorelei?”

Klaus rolled his eyes and replied, shortly, “That woman. The farmer.” He faced his brother, “Elijah, we’ll—”

“Nonsense, Niklaus. We don’t have the luxury of time in this. I will go with Hope, and you know I will protect her with my life. Have Marcel search the Quarter, while you yourself can go to the swamp and investigate the wolves' territory. In the meantime, Freya will remain here and work her magic—” Elijah glanced at their sister. “—pun intended.”

The Viking witch rolled her eyes, but grinned nonetheless at Elijah’s dry humor. “He's right, Klaus.”

The muscles in Klaus's jaw twitched. As the Original hybrid wrestled with himself, Elijah snapped, “Enough, Niklaus. Hayley needs you. This is the only way.”

A tense beat of silence passed before Klaus snarled. Eyes closed, he took a heavy breath, then summoned his only child. Hope and Lorelei appeared together. The little girl wrinkled her nose as she eyed her family suspiciously. “Dad, what's wrong?”

A low sigh trickled through Klaus's nose as he glanced at his siblings. Freya gave a slight shake of her head, but Klaus charged onward. “I won't lie to my daughter,” he said quietly before crossing the courtyard. The hybrid moved to kneel before his little girl. He gathered her hands in his own and spoke softly, his tone serious, but gentle. “My dearest Hope...” Only, as he gazed into the bright blue eyes of his darling daughter, Klaus could not bring himself to instill fear and worry in her innocent gaze. “Ah...your friend, Lorelei—”

Behind his daughter, the woman's eyes widened. Why was he talking about her?

“Well, she missed you so very much, and I know that you've missed her...” Klaus grinned at his daughter. “So, your mother and I thought you might like to go spend some time at her...charming, little farm for a few days.”

“Really?” Hope squealed.

A flash of surprise crossed Lorelei's face, and in a second, Elijah appeared at her side. His lips brushed her earlobe as he leaned in to whisper a little clarity on the situation. “There has been some trouble with Hope's mother...I hope you do not mind. I took the liberty...”

Though a shiver crept over her at his proximity, the whisper of his touch, Lorelei peered down at the kid as she hugged her father happily and suppressed her unease. “Of course.”

Anything to keep Little Wolf safe.

* * *

The first thing that Hope did upon her return to the Graham family farm was hug the life out of Fitzgerald, the happy yellow labrador that had been her constant companion during the little girl’s previous stay. The pair rolled around on the living room floor as Elijah brought the Mikaelsons' suitcases inside. The Original spared the barest hint of a smile at the sight, his niece giggling as the friendly dog licked her cheeks and chin.

“Someone's happy to see you,” Lorelei grinned, hip propped against the front doorway. On her back, the massive dog towering over her, Hope continued to run her tiny hands through Fitzgerald's fur and asked, her voice somewhat muffled by the fluff, “Can I go see Daisy and Delilah?”

“Sure thing, kiddo. You know where they are.”

Before Elijah could protest, Hope was already bounding out the front door and down the porch steps, the labrador hot on her heels. He sped over to the door, gaze narrowed dangerously as he watched his niece disappear into the forest. “Is that wise? Sending a child out—”

“Okay, first off, can you please not do that?” Lorelei asked, still slightly dizzy from her proximity to his zipping around like the Flash. Her eyes hurt just watching it happen. “And she's fine. She knows these woods, and there's nothing around us for nearly forty miles. She's safe, I promise.”

Elijah's lips pursed. “You would make promises you can't keep?”

Her shoulders stiffened at the accusation in his tone. Feeling somewhat bitter, Lorelei snipped, “I don't know, I seemed to keep her pretty safe last time.”

Shame slithered across Elijah's skin, and he remembered just where he was and with whom he was standing. Of course. This woman loved his niece, and he trusted that she would not put Hope in danger. The vampire titled his head in concession. “My apologies.”

Lorelei made a noncommittal noise and stepped away from the door. She needed to get the linens out of the hall closet and put fresh sheets in the spare bedroom and towels in the hall bathroom for her new guest. Only, as she moved to carry out her few chores, Elijah remained frozen in the open doorway, watching, waiting for catastrophe to strike.

“Um, she's going to be okay, ya know? You don't have to...hover.”

He barely spared her an offended glance. “I do not hover.”

“This is classic hovering,” she made a vague hand gesture. “Helicopter Parenting 101.” Honestly, the man was so tense that she could have bounced a quarter off his back. He was clearly out of his element, which led Lorelei to wonder... “Have you ever raised a child before?”

“No,” he replied, stiffly. When he turned to pin her with a bored gaze, he asked pointedly, “Have you?”

Lorelei found herself grinning despite his caustic tone. “Touché.”

When the bed sheets were changed and a stack of clean towels slid under the bathroom sink, Lorelei showed Elijah to the room where he would be staying. “There should be hangers in the closet for your clothes, and if you'd like, there are extra blankets and pillows in the linen cupboard down the hall. There's no TV or Wifi, and your phone service will probably be spotty, but there are a ton of books stashed all around the house. Of course, you're more than welcome to make yourself at home around the farm. There's a nice lake and a bunch of lovely trails on the grounds.”

Elijah thanked her for the hospitality and inquired more about the farm—the animals she kept and such.  Lorelei told him about the handful of chickens and the horses, the only livestock on the property.

“Yes, two mares, I believe?” Elijah clarified, seeming to recall as much from her memories.

She nodded, intrigued by the gentleness of his tone. “Do you ride?”

A wistful expression crossed his handsome face. “I do.” Elijah and his siblings had grown up riding horses and had ridden them for centuries before the more industrious modes of transportation had even been dreamt of, much less invented.

“Well, if you're ever in the mood to ride, the stables are just north of the house.”

He smiled at the generous offer and thanked her once again.

The conversation naturally stalled there and left them standing awkwardly in her living room. Well, Lorelei wasn't sure if he felt awkward—she doubted someone like him was capable of feeling awkward—, but she certainly did. It had been a painfully long time since she was alone with a man, let alone a man like _him._ He was terribly attractive, not to mention charming, intelligent, and well, something not quite human. Lorelei wasn’t sure how she was going to survive living in such close quarters with the alluring stranger.

Suddenly feeling claustrophobic inside the quaint cabin, she blurted out an invitation. “Would you like to go meet them? The horses, I mean. We can check on Hope while we're at it.”

Elijah acquiesced with a nod. “That would be lovely.”

* * *

The Mikaelsons’ first two days at the farm passed in a flurry of childish games and various outdoor activities, the majority of which saw Lorelei in her element and Elijah completely out of his own. That first morning the girls woke to prowl the woods before dawn, collecting all manner of berries and leaves and flower petals with which to create homemade paint for “an epic color war battle,” as Hope had described it. The two partners in mischief had filled nearly a dozen jam jars with reds, greens, browns, and oranges for a paint fight that day.

When the hour of battle approach, Lorelei gave Elijah a judgmental once over. “Do you have any clothes that don't cost more than my truck payment? They'll get ruined.”

“No,” had been the Original’s simple reply. The woman laughed in spite of herself and nodded, calling out as she disappeared down the hall, “Of course, not. I'll see if I kind find something of Deke's that'll work.”

“Deke?” Elijah echoed. Feeling a bit impish, he inquired, “Boyfriend?”

A moment later, Lorelei returned with a folded flannel button-down and pair of black cover-alls that were about a size too small. “No. Deke, my dead grandfather.” She shoved the clothes into the vampire’s arms unceremoniously with a bold stare. “Get changed. We’ll meet you outside.”

Though Elijah had thought the paint fight to be less than invigorating, it was obvious that his niece had a ball during the foray, and her giggles were infectious. Even Klaus would not have been able to muster a sour attitude in the face of Hope’s happiness, her hair lumped with greens and browns, her cheeks and nose streaked with red. Although there was only enough paint for the color war to last for no longer than half an hour or so—Lorelei wouldn’t let the Mikaelsons use their advanced speed “because that’s totally cheating”, or else the battle would’ve ended even sooner—, the trio were, nonetheless, covered head-to-toe in paint.

Upon surveying the state of their clothes, shoes, hair, _everything_ , Lorelei had promptly ordered, “Right. Outside showers!” and marched them to the water hose attached to the backside of the cabin. The dog snaking between their legs to catch bits of falling water, the trio danced under the hose’s spray, and Hope delighted in playing in the water, rinsing paint from her red locks and off her freckled cheeks, almost as much as she enjoyed the paint fight in the first place. The eldest Mikaelson vampire would be reluctant to admit it, but he found himself enjoying it, too. Especially when Lorelei extended a helping hand to wash the vampire’s hair. Elijah rejoiced in the feeling of the woman’s fingers carding through his hair, head bent beneath the spray from the hose, to shake loose the excess clumps of paint and stray twigs that had made a home on his head, her fingernails delicately scraping his scalp. Though he was keen to return the favor, his little niece beat him to it, giggling madly as she “accidentally” got water in Lorelei’s eyes.

“Not cool, kid,” the woman grumbled goodnaturedly.

A few hours later, Elijah watched idly as Hope played with the dog—Fitzgerald, he believed—on the grassy lawn in front of the cabin. His niece tossed a tennis ball, the labrador fetched it, and around they went. The repetitive action, so mundane, so normal, kept a wide smile on the young girl’s face, and the sight caused a loosening of the tightness in Elijah’s chest. It was a lovely privilege, indeed, to see his beloved niece so at ease and happy.

He said near as much to the woman who sat beside him on the front porch swing. His declaration earned him a curious stare. A few moments later, there came a hesitant question. “Does she ever just get to be a kid?”

Elijah blinked. “Of course, she does. Hope has ample free time in which she is allowed to play.”

“Play how?”

“She reads and paints, and she is learning to play the piano,” he replied, proudly.

“And?”

Elijah sighed, a touch condescendingly, and echoed the woman. “’And’ what?”

“Does she…go to the movies? Does she go to laser tag or mini-golf? Does she play in the park? Hopscotch? Basketball? Jump rope? Ya know, a little double dutch action?”

With pursed lips, Elijah began, “Between her lessons with Freya and her schooling, Hope does not have the time—” but Lorelei cut him off with a sardonic snort, muttering, “She'll be a very accomplished young lady. Jane Austen would be proud...Jesus, does she ever even _see_ other children?”

When her male companion didn't respond, Lorelei scoffed and turned away from him to study the little girl traipsing happily across her yard. “Seriously?”

“It is not that simple. You cannot possibly imagine the dangers this world poses to that child. The threats that plague her constantly.” The vampire’s tone hardened, “And do not for one second underestimate the lengths that our family will go to in order to ensure her safety.”

“But solitary confinement? That's no way for a child to live. She needs friends, people her own age, that she can learn and grow with. Don't you want that for her?”

“Of course, we would, but the families of New Orleans aren't exactly keen on playdates with the child of Klaus Mikaelson.” At his words, a slow smile lifted the woman’s lips. She met Elijah’s dark stare and said, softly, “Well, lucky for Hope, we're not in New Orleans.”

A phone call and an hour later, a Jeep was pulling down the long drive to the Graham cabin, and out tumbled three children and a lanky man wearing a straw hat on a string. Lorelei introduced the man simply as Q and the children—two boys and a girl, relatively all around Hope’s age—as Felix, Morgan, and Allie. Without waiting for the adults, the kids immediately darted for the woods, the young girl grabbing Hope by the wrist and tugging her along.

Elijah’s brow furrowed. “Where are they…?”

“The lake,” replied Lorelei and Q in tandem. The latter added, speaking to Lorelei, “I’ll be back in a few hours. Call me if they get too rowdy.”

“They’re always too rowdy,” Lorelei muttered, but there was an absence of ire in her voice. She waved goodbye to her friend as he reversed his Jeep off the Graham property before she turned to the vampire—who looked quite out of place in the forest with his business trousers and silk button down—and nudged him playfully. “C’mon then. Can’t let the kiddos have all the fun.”

While the children swam and played, the adults and Fitz relaxed on the dock. The warmth of the sunlight tickled their skin, the giggles and splashes of the kids tickling their ears. It was a lovely, peaceful moment until—

“Shouldn’t they be wearing life jackets?”

Lorelei snickered. “You worry too much…they’re fine.”

She spoke with such surety that Elijah almost admired her for it. He grinned, all blinding white teeth, at the woman, and teased, “For someone who has no children of her own, you seem to possess an awful lot of opinions regarding how they should be raised.”

The woman gave a lazy shrug, her lovely blue eyes shielded by a pair of sunglasses. “I was a teacher for seven years and was a youth counselor for five. I know kids.”

“Where did you teach?”

“In New Orleans. I taught at an HBHS in the 9th Ward before my grandfather passed and I moved out here to take over the farm.”

Elijah was delighted at the new information. Everything he learned about the woman only made her more wonderful in her depth and complexity. He savored the knowledge he’d gathered over the last two days. He knew that she was, unlike most humans, a morning person, that she took milk but not sugar in her coffee, that she had a Masters degree in Comparative Literature—he’d found the framed diploma in the drawer of the desk in his bedroom—, that she was a fan of both professional baseball and college football, and that she had, at some point in her young life, backpacked through most of Western Europe.

All of this and more Elijah had discovered, mostly by listening to her conversations with his niece. Lorelei shared herself so freely with Hope. Such intimacy was foreign to the Original. While the Mikaelsons had given in to nearly every indulgence imaginable over the years, the siblings were seldom allowed confidants, often withholding personal details like secrets. Those confidants that _did_ manage to make it through the Mikaelsons’ defenses often paid for the privilege with their lives.

Studying the sunlight glittering off the smooth curve of the cheek of the young woman next to him on a dock in the middle of Mississippi, Elijah’s chest bloomed with warmth at the thought that Lorelei was not familiar with such restrictions. His dark eyes tracked the quirk of her lips, the thud of the pulse in her neck, the slope of her brow, and the vampire thought, distantly, fondly, that he was happy that Lorelei was so free—and that he was happy to have known her.

* * *

Over the course of the Mikaelsons’ stay, Lorelei was surprised to discover that Elijah was quite the chef. He diced and sautéed expertly, seasoned to perfection, and platted food with an elaborate flourish. That first night, Elijah prepared fancy paninis, which he haughtily told her was a Parisian take on the classic sandwich called a _croque monsieur._ As he fried the ham and cheese delicacies, Hope bounded over to her friend, who watched in a dazed, half-interest from the small kitchen table, and asked, “Lorelei, can I see your phone? I want to play our song. 

Not turning from the stove, Elijah flipped the sandwich in the skillet and grinned. “You have a song?”

“Oh, we have a song,” answered Lorelei with a grin, to which Elijah raised his eyebrows, either impressed or incredulous—Lorelei couldn’t tell. Obligingly surrendering her phone to the little girl, Lorelei waited until the tell-tale sounds of Beyoncé’s “Love on Top” began to drift through the cozy kitchen. Instantly, both woman and girl began to sing and twirl about the cabin, careless, euphoric, free.

And an ancient vampire stood, smiling fondly, all the while.

Imagine Lorelei’s surprise when, the next morning, she emerged from her bedroom (which she was happily sharing with the Little Wolf) to find Elijah standing at the stove once again—this time flipping up a batch of pancakes for breakfast—singing softly under his breath. The young farm owner was struck by the image. A gorgeous man standing in her kitchen, singing sweetly and making her breakfast. It was a sight, she thought fleetingly, that she could get used to. Only, the moment was undercut hilariously when she realized what Elijah was singing. _Love on Top._ With a laugh, Lorelei declared, “Why am I not surprised that even men like you like Beyoncé?”

The Original vampire merely pursed his lips good-humoredly. “The Beyhive knows no bounds.”

Laughing, Lorelei lingered in the doorway to survey the scene a moment longer. The woman’s eyes trailed over Elijah’s broad shoulders, admiring how snuggly his crisp button-down shirt fit across his back and over his biceps. She relished in the sight of the coiled muscles in his arms rolled and flexed as he flipped a pancake in the skillet before she allowed her gaze to drop lower, sneaking a peek at the taller man’s cute butt.

“Would you mind setting the table?”

“What?” Lorelei glanced up, swiftly, to find Elijah peering at her with a self-satisfied smirk. He gestured the drawer with the silverware. “The table?”

“Right.” Lorelei felt herself blush. She wasn’t normally one to leer so openly, but she couldn’t help herself. Elijah was devastatingly attractive, and it didn’t help that he was also painfully charming and armed with a killer smile. Much like Hope, Elijah had showed up in Lorelei’s life like the sun after a long storm—brilliant and bright, all-consuming, radiating warmth and joy. Being around Elijah should have made Lorelei uncomfortable. After all, he was a stranger in her home with whom she was suddenly sharing very intimate spaces. But it didn’t.

Just as Lorelei fell in love with Hope from the moment she found the Little Wolf sleeping against a tree on her property, Lorelei felt calm and comfortable in Elijah’s company almost immediately. Like he was an old friend she simply hadn’t seen in a long time. It was a nice feeling, and one that Lorelei realized, with a sudden pang, she didn’t want to give up any time soon.   

* * *

The world was a soft sort of quiet. There was not but the occasional rustle of shrubbery in the wind, the light song of a cardinal in a tall pine. Elijah sat, a steaming mug of coffee in hand, in one of the rocking chairs opposite the porch swing of the Graham family cabin. The fresh scent of dew tickled his nose as the first few precious rays of sunshine began to peak through the thick canopy of trees dotting the front lawn.

It was some time before Lorelei joined him, Hope still sleeping soundly. Cradling an empty mug, Elijah offered a confession to the woman in the chair beside him. “It is a peace I have not known in quite some time.”

The easy morning took the Original vampire back to simpler days. _Or more savage days_ , he thought wryly, and then he remembered, quite sharply, why they were doing this. Why he was sequestered away in the woods with a human woman and his beloved niece. Why that little girl was so important for their family, especially Niklaus and his tortured soul, always on the brink of condemnation. Just like that, Elijah’s lovely morning was shattered.

The moment, perfect though it may have been, was merely an illusion.

Hayley was still missing. Therefore, an active threat to his family remained. Elijah glanced back through the open front door to beyond, to where his niece laying in a peaceful, ignorant slumber. His lips twitched with affection and gratitude.

Dark eyes flickered to the woman. Her hair was pulled messily away from her face, a permanent yawn poised on her lips, her eyes bleary with the thick fog of sleep. She did not seem bothered by the man next to her; rather, her gaze was fixed on the natural world before them. Elijah watched her as she watched squirrels forage through the damp grass, scurry up the trunks of the tall pine and oak trees, and rest on thick branches. Lorelei’s stare was one of familiarity. This, Elijah realized, was her life. This blissful morning—to Elijah, a mere and brief respite from the chaos of the life of a Mikaelson—was nothing more than routine for the human woman.

All at once, Elijah saw the life he could never have and the life he desperately wanted for his niece.

“My family will forever be in your debt,” he told her, his voice breaking the peace. “—with all that you've done for Hope. Not only do you have our gratitude, but you have our friendship.”

A lazy grin tugged at her lips. “I don’t think your brother likes me very much. I doubt he wants to be friends.”

Elijah conceded, humored. “Point taken. Well, you have his gratitude, and you have Hope’s friendship—and mine, as well.”

That provoked the desire reaction. Finally, the woman looked at him, her expression so open and honest that it was almost vulnerable. She gave him a sleepy but sincere smile. “I’m happy to hear it, Elijah.” She fiddled with the seam of her pajama shorts. “Will I…?” she began, but fell silent, unsure how to proceed.

“Yes?” he prodded, gently, and she pinned Elijah with a look so frightened that it made his breath catch. “Lorelei, what is it?”

“Will I get to see her again? After this—” She waved her hands wildly. “—is all over? Back in New Orleans, you promised you wouldn’t take my memories again, but is that it? This—whatever the hell this is—ends and you two leave and that’s it. I never see her again. Because, Elijah, I _can’t_ —”

Elijah reached to capture her hands in his own. His thumbs stroking across her knuckles, the Original vowed, solemnly, his dark eyes boring into her own blue ones, “I will not allow that to happen…I can’t promise how frequently or under what conditions you may see Hope, but I assure you, this visit will not be your last. She loves you too much to lose you again.”

Sudden tears stung Lorelei’s eyes. She squeezed Elijah’s hands in relief and admitted, “I know its crazy, but I love her, too, Elijah. She’s…incredible. Crazy lovable. She’s a great fucking kid.”

That startled a laugh out of Elijah, and the vampire released Lorelei’s hands, sliding back once again into his rocking chair, to nod. “Indeed, she is.” Then, he added, absently, almost as if to himself, “She is our family’s salvation…”

He thought of his niece’s power. The magic coursing through her veins. His mother’s magic. His brother’s and Hayley’s wolfhoods. His family’s vampiric origins. Not only was that child the most powerful being to have ever roamed the earth, but she single-handedly redeemed the Mikaelson clan from over a millennium of violence and debauchery with her sheer existence. A dozen lifetimes full of murder, betrayal, deceit, and sex—all resolved and put to bed because of a sweet little girl with red hair and soft eyes. Just as the vampire’s thoughts began to swirl deeper into the horror of his family’s past, Lorelei gave a quiet, satisfied sigh as the sun finally rose in the low, Southern sky.

His attention on the woman once again, the darkness of the past on the fringe of his brain, the Original furrowed his brow and studied the woman. Eventually, he proposed, “Aren't you curious? About us. My family. Aren’t you curious about what we are?”

Lorelei blinked some of the sleep from her eyes and brought one knee up into the seat of the rocking chair. Wrapping her arms around her propped knee, she replied, slowly, thoughtfully. “Of course, I am…but something tells me I'm better off not knowing.” With a slight glance at Elijah, she seemed to weigh her next words carefully. “I know that there seems to be some sort of… _magic_ at play, and I realize that you aren't exactly...”

“Human?” the vampire offered when her words failed her.

“Mhmm.” Lorelei agreed, absently, not seeming to want to dwell on the logistics, perhaps too afraid or too intelligent to know better. She spoke again with a bit more force. “But that's all I need to know. I just...I just wanna make sure the kid's okay.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. Elijah would forever marvel at the way this woman loved his niece. The way the pair appeared to be drawn to one another—for, Elijah believed, when Hope was in peril, running from those demonic witches of the Mississippi Delta, her powers brought her to Lorelei’s farm for a reason. Fingers dancing around the rim of his empty coffee cup, Elijah murmured, “I wonder...if there isn't something special about you.”

The young woman shot him a dubious look. “Why do you say that?" 

“Everything in this world means something. There is magic all around us...” Elijah explained. “Would it really be so impossible to imagine that, perhaps, a little magic might reside within _you_?”

Much to Elijah’s surprise, Lorelei laughed him off and stood from her rocking chair. “Sure. I’m a regular Tinkerbell…I’m gonna put on some fresh coffee. Can I get you another mug?”

“Please, allow me.”

Lorelei hesitated, but Elijah insisted. When the Original excused himself indoors, he couldn’t resist peeking in on his niece. Hope was snuggled beneath a mountain of quilts beside the snoring yellow labrador curled protectively around her feet, and the sight brought a gentle smile to Elijah’s lips. The eldest living Mikaelson brother hovered momentarily in the doorway—pondering, absently, the twists of fate that brought him and his niece to this little cabin with this lovely woman in the woods—before he finally turned toward the kitchen in pursuit of fresh coffee.

Minutes later, he rejoined his host on the front porch. She accepted the warm mug with two hands and grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

A beat of silence lapsed in which the odd couple lost themselves to the early morning. Absorbed by her coffee and the sunrise in equal measure, Lorelei was unaware of the vampire’s gaze, the dark focus of which was captured solely by her. His hawk-like gaze flickered over her frame, searching, wondering. Throughout the many, many years of his lifetime, Elijah had encountered all sort of magical folk—vampires, witches, werewolves, banshees, druids, sirens, hybrids like his dear brother Klaus, and now, thanks to his niece, even a tribrid. If his many forays with the supernatural had taught Elijah anything, it was that nothing was impossible. But could this woman, with her gentle manner and her peaceful life, be magical and surpass the detection of not only himself, but his family? Both he and Klaus had been inside her mind and found nothing, yet Elijah remained… _curious._

“What is it?”

Elijah blinked as her voice pulled him from his thoughts. “Pardon?”

“You’ve been staring,” she answered, amusement lacing her words. Caught red-handed, the vampire gave a boyish grin and confessed. “Apologies. It appears I remain stuck on our previous conversation. Forgive me for saying, but you seem quite certain that you cannot possess something—” He grinned, teasingly. “—magical within you, yet here I sit.”

Lorelei’s brow furrowed. “I don’t follow.”

Elijah gestured the cabin behind them, as if to indicate towards the sleeping child inside. “When she was in danger the summer before last, her magic brought her _here—_ to you. And now, this week, just when our family needs assistance, who should I stumble upon in the Quarter but you?”

“That seems an awful lot like conjecture."

The vampire smirked. “I do not believe in coincidence.”

Raising a steaming coffee cup to her lips, Lorelei took a sniff, savored the scent of the rich dark roast, and took a cautious sip. “That’s just something that stubborn people say.”

Her snarky remark caught Elijah by surprise. A laugh escaped the Original. “Touché,” he replied with a smirk, before he added, “Though, I remain convinced of your magical potential."

“But I'm just...” The young woman floundered, loose blonde waves dancing as she shook her head. “I am _so_ terribly _normal_.”

“Is that how you see yourself?”

“Yes,” replied Lorelei resolutely as set down her coffee mug and stood, walking to the edge of the porch. She leaned against the railing as she elaborated. “There's nothing special about me, Elijah.”

The vampire mirrored her actions, standing, lips parting to protest, but Lorelei held up her hands as if in surrender. “I hope you understand that I'm not saying this in is some sort of self-deprecating way,” she explained. “I am perfectly happy with myself and my life. I’m nice and simple and cute. I’m a loyal friend and a hard worker. I’m a good person from a good, simple family, and I have no illusions about what I am not, which is magical. I don’t have any kind of super powers or special tricks up my sleeve—and that’s okay.”

“And this is how you think others perceive you?” Elijah inquired, somewhat mesmerized by the impromptu self-identifying speech. “The sweet, cute, friendly neighborhood girl?”

“Isn't it? Isn't that what you see?” Lorelei pushed, almost demanding that he agree with her, arms crossed against her chest, blue eyes daringly piercing his own.

She was beautiful, Elijah realized for the dozenth time in that moment—a delightful mix of stubborn anger and sweet vulnerability. He yearned to touch her. To tuck a silky strand of blonde hair behind her ear. To follow the curve of her jaw with his fingertip. To trail the pad of his thumb over the bow of her mouth. The vampire did not realize that he had stepped closer in his ponderance, did not appreciate how little space remained between her body and his own until Lorelei’s hand came to rest on his chest, firm but not forceful. A warning, or a plea. Gazing down into her eyes, Elijah finally replied to her question. “Perhaps that is what I see...but I think I might also see something...exquisite.”

 _Exquisite_.

The word crept down her spine in Elijah’s smooth, velvety murmur, and the woman shivered.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Elijah, Hope, and Lorelei were swimming in the lake, along with a very happy Fitzgerald, when Elijah’s cellphone began to ring. The dog barking and the girls chatting, the vampire swam over to the dock and heaved himself up to retrieve his phone. 

“Niklaus, have you located Hayley?”

“Yes, brother, and we’re coming to you now.” Klaus’s tone was urgent and not at all jubilant as one might expect given that he had apparently recovered the love of his life, the mother of his child, from whatever peril had befallen her. “You must get Hope ready.”

“Ready for what?” Elijah glanced at the girls in the water, blissfully floating on their backs as Fitzgerald swam lazy laps around them, occasionally brushing Hope with his nose to incite the little girl to throw the stick he carried between his teeth.

 _It was too soon_ , Elijah thought with a sudden clench of his chest. They weren’t ready to leave.

“Hayley is dying, Elijah.”

A moment came and went as his brother’s words washed over Elijah like a cold shower that stole his breath. “What would you have me do?”

Klaus sighed—a desperate, miserable, horrible sound, a noise that was all at once strangled and suffocated. “Get Hope ready. She has to save her mother.”

Elijah closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. “How long until you arrive?”

“An hour.”

“Worry not, Niklaus, we will fix this. Hope is strong, and Hayley is a fighter. She will get through this.”

“See you soon, brother.”

Then, the line went dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final installment will feature some groovy magic, a little bit of heartache, and maybe a happy ending!


End file.
